Taking The Long Way
by Lingering Lilies
Summary: Santana's journey toward self-acceptance through love, loss, friends, career and family. Contains Glee history through "Original Song." Rated M for sex.
1. Breathe

**Taking the Long Way**

Santana's journey toward self-acceptance through love, loss, friends, career and family. Several new characters introduced, including a new love interest. Contains Glee history through "Original Song." All couplings canon. The story begins with SamTana and the Brittana / Bartie triangle and progresses from there.

(In case you've forgotten what happens up through "Original Song," we've had Hurt Locker and Dirt Locker, but NOT Shirt Locker, Frozen Dessert Locker, Revert Locker or Heart Locker.)

Rated M for language and sex – _lots_ of it throughout the story, though always plot-based or for intended character development.

Disclaimers: I don't own Glee or any of the Glee characters, but I do own my OCs. Give the OCs a chance - many readers have commented that they're actually not half bad :)

Title taken from the Dixie Chicks' song "The Long Way Around."

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Breathe<strong>

Chapter title song: "Breathe" by Anna Nalick

Year: **2022**

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><p>Santana gripped the steering wheel of her SUV so hard her knuckles were white. She leaned on the horn. Traffic was standing completely still, and the woman in the passenger seat was panting and sweating. Santana felt she was panting and sweating too, at least on the inside. She turned the air conditioning up as high as it would go, even though it was only March. <em>What if we don't make it in time? What if something goes wrong?<em>

_Just breathe,_ she thought. _Remember to breathe_.

"Santana, is there any other way to get there?" she heard, as she wondered the same thing. "There's got to be a way around this mess."

Santana racked her brain. And then it hit her. There _was_ another way. If she backtracked a mile or so, there was a scenic route over the hill and past the reservoir that would take them around the perimeter of the city to their destination. There surely wouldn't be any traffic on that road.

"Yeah, there is. It's a little longer though. Is that ok?" she asked.

"Sometimes the longer way is better."

Through her panic, Santana smiled. She turned the steering wheel sharply, making an illegal U-turn, and sped down the road in the opposite direction. She took the woman's hand in hers and squeezed.

_Yes_, she smiled to herself, _Sometimes the longer way is better._


	2. Eternal Optimist

**Chapter 2: Eternal Optimist**

**A/N: These first few chapters are very short, but bear with me! They get longer and more detailed as Santana's experience becomes more nuanced.**

Time: March 2011

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><p>If there was one thing Santana Lopez knew for certain now, it was that she was hopelessly, devastatingly in love with Brittany Susan Pierce. In fact, she had always loved her, since the first time they had locked eyes during cheerleading practice years ago. Everything in the world was uncertain except Brittany.<p>

Which is why Santana was absolutely blindsided when Brittany chose Artie over her. It was as if a forceful gale had whipped through the branches of a tree, taking every single leaf and sprout, leaving only frail, knobby branches. Santana felt stripped completely bare.

"I would totally be with you if it weren't for Artie," Brittany assured.

The consolation hurt almost more than the rejection. When Santana slid back into bitch mode, zipping herself up and closing herself off to everything around her, Brittany reached for a hug, trying to extract her again.

"Sorry… don't…" Brittany pleaded.

"Get off me!" Santana snapped through her tears before Brittany could offer any more stinging consolation. She pushed Brittany's arms away and slunk down the hall, shoulders stiff as she avoided eye contact with everyone. _No one_ could see her cry. Not even Brittany.

She made her way out to the field, relieved that no Cheerios were around. Only a few scrawny track team members were ambling around the course. She went to sit high in the bleachers, holding herself as she rocked back and forth. Something in her stomach felt as if it were being stretched and slowly ripped up to her throat.

Brittany had chosen Artie over her.

Santana usually got angry when things didn't go her way. But she wasn't angry now. She felt something much less fiery. This felt like drowning.

"Santana?" chirped a cheerful male voice. She turned to see Blaine, in his Dalton uniform, walking up the bleacher steps towards her. "Hey!" he greeted.

Santana paused to compose herself. Her guard was down, and in a rare gesture of kindness, she attempted a smile. It was watery. "Hi…" she managed.

Blaine sat down next to her. "What are you doing out here alone?" he asked. He was as jovial as ever.

"I should ask _you_ the same thing," she scoffed, with a bit more bite than she intended. Wasn't that always the case with her, though?

Blaine chuckled. "Kurt went to see if Mr. Schue was still around. We're picking up Tina and Mike to go to the Indie film festival in town. Want to join?"

"Negative" said Santana. She found independent films to be pretentious. Plus an indie film festival sounded a little too gay.

"Fair enough. Hey, what's eatin' you?" he asked, nudging her with his shoulder.

"Nothing. People just _suck_, you know?" She kept her eyes on the field.

"Maybe sometimes," he shrugged. "Who's got you down this time?"

Santana ignored the question. Her filter must have fallen out, because she just started speaking her thoughts to Blaine's sympathetic ear: "Why do people fall in love? I mean it just seems like the stupidest thing. Everyone just ends up hurt." She felt her lip starting to tremble, so she took a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut and clenching her jaw. "I think we'd all just be better alone."

Blaine put his hand on her arm. She eyed it warily as he gave her arm a squeeze and let go.

"Sometimes love does work out. I'm no expert, but I know it doesn't just exist without a reason. Sometimes we have to go through something bad to get to something really amazing. I had to leave my school because things got really bad. And now I'm at Dalton where I'm accepted and celebrated for who I am. It might suck right now. But someday I think you'll look back and see what happened was supposed to happen exactly the way it did."

Santana scoffed. "_God_, your perkiness is annoying. Do you ever get tired of it?"

Blaine chuckled again. "No, I don't think I do." A car horn sounded in the parking lot, cuing Blaine to stand up and adjust his uniform.

"That'll be Kurt. But hey, if you want to talk more, you can always call me."

"Thanks…" Santana responded. Her tone conveyed that a phone call from her was about as likely as Sue joining the Peace Corps. As Blaine walked down the bleacher steps, she sighed and watched the runners slowly continue around the track. They ran in circles and never got anywhere. Why did they run at all?


	3. Trouty MouthOff

**Chapter Three: Trouty Mouth-Off**

A/N: Once again, these first few chapters are short, but I promise they get longer and more detailed as Santana's experience becomes more nuanced.

Time: March 2011, Episode "Original Song"

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><p>"Santana, that was <em>not<em> cool!" Sam fumed.

Glee club had just let out and Sam had dragged her by the elbow into the deserted parking lot.

Santana tore her arm from his grasp and stomped away from him, turning back with a glare.

"_Whatever_ Sam," she retorted, "it was just a song for Glee club and it was a damn _sexy_ one, at that. Don't act like you're not flattered."

"I'm not, it was a _terrible_ song!" Sam insisted. "And it wasn't flattering, it was just making fun of me! I know you think I'm as dumb as Brittany, but I know when I'm being insulted!"

"Do _not_ call Brittany dumb, you asshole!" Santana screamed. There was ten seconds of dead silence as her words echoed off the surrounding walls of the campus.

"We're done, Santana," he muttered. There were ten more seconds of total silence.

Santana scoffed. "No one breaks up with _me_, Sam," she sneered, crossing her arms over her chest.

Sam shrugged. "Guess I'm no one then." He stalked back into the building, fists still balled at his sides, letting the door slam behind him.

Santana rolled her eyes and got into her car. Thank _god_ summer was just a few months away.


	4. Dizzy

**Chapter 4: Dizzy**

Time: Late March 2011, after "Original Song." The story departs from canon at this point.

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><p>The light off Santana's phone in the dark was almost blinding as she scrolled through her contacts. She found the number she was looking for and held the phone to her ear.<p>

"Hey, Puckerman, it's me. Listen, I'm heading to Gray's later, and I was thinking we could knock back a couple of cold ones and catch up in the back of your car. You're paying. What time will you to pick me up?"

If this direct approach had worked with Puck once, it had worked a hundred times. They had an arrangement - which is why it was jarring to her that lately he'd consistently turned her down in favor of the White Rhino.

"Santana, I told you that's not gonna happen. I'm a one-woman man now. Get it through your head and find some other sucker to buy your drinks and drive you around."

He was no less harsh than she had ever been, but she still felt the sting. She hung up without replying. She got in her car and drove herself to the bar.

It's a well-known fact that even a seventeen-year-old can get into a bar and be served if she's pretty enough and her boobs are big enough. Thanks to her summer surgery, she'd never had any problems getting in _anywhere_. She had a fake ID, but they rarely asked for one. She sauntered into the bar, perched herself on a stool and looked down the bar at the bartender, Kate. Kate glanced with a knowing smile as she turned around and mixed up Santana's favorite drink; cream, grenadine, vodka and two cherries served in a martini glass. It was girly, fruity and sexy as hell to hold in her manicured hand. After she'd finished the drink, she picked up each cherry and wrapped her lips around it, pulling the stem off languidly. If Puck had been there, he would have drooled over the sight, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Santana gestured to Kate for another drink, holding up two fingers to signal "make it a double." Kate nodded and moments later placed a martini glass down on a fresh napkin in front of Santana. Santana smiled her thanks and took a few sips before pulling out her phone. She scrolled through the contacts… A, B…. she quickly scrolled past Brittany's name… until she came to F. Finn. Finn! He would surely salivate just like Puck as she ate the cherries from her drink. Sure, their sexual encounter had been terrible and he may not be much of a dancer, but dancing with him was more fun than sitting on a barstool. She called him, making a similar proposition to the one she had made to Puck earlier.

"Santana," Finn huffed, "I'm not into whatever game you're playing. I don't feel like driving across town to go to some bar where you _know_ they won't let me in, just to watch you get drunk and have to drive you home." Click.

_Well_. That ruled out Finn. Puck was out. Sam was out. Matt had transferred. She finished her drink and sighed.

"Listen, it's slow tonight, so I'm heading out," Kate drawled, "But if you need a refill, our new girl Elinor can take care of you. I'll let her know what you drink on my way out."

Santana nodded and glanced down the bar to where she could see a girl with her back to Santana. The man she was talking to was drinking a Stella Artois and was clearly mesmerized by the girl serving it to him. The girl's hair was long, almost to her waist. It was reddish brown with sun streaks in it, and looked a little wind-blown. It clung to her curves as she moved. She heard the guy laugh, the kind of laugh someone gives when they're trying too hard to flirt. Santana rolled her eyes at his lame effort. Elinor wiped down the bar next to him, and then turned to walk towards Santana.

She was _gorgeous_.

Her skin was creamy and her cheeks were tinted with pink as if the wind that had blown her hair had whipped her cheeks too. Her dark lashes shaded bright hazel eyes, and her mouth, even at rest, seemed to be smiling. Santana couldn't help but glance at her cleavage; noticeable but not forced. Her low-cut black cotton v-neck clung loosely to her sides, and her bartender's apron hung low on her swaying hips. As she walked toward Santana, Santana picked up one of the cherries in her empty glass and popped it in her mouth.

"Can I get you a refill?" Elinor asked. Her voice was as sweet as the fruit in Santana's mouth.

Santana nodded as she pulled off the cherry stem. Elinor turned around, her hair swinging with her. She quickly turned bottles and shakers and within seconds, a new drink was in front of Santana. "Impressive," said Santana. "Not bad for a new bartender."

"I may be new here, but I'm not new to bartending," Elinor said, raising an eyebrow. She leaned onto the bar. "Different states have different ages you can start. In Illinois it's 18, so that's when I started. I'm working my way through college as a bartender."

"Where do you go to college?" Santana asked, surprised that a bartender in Lima was actually pursuing higher education.

"In Evanston, Illinois," Elinor said casually.

Santana choked on her sip. "You go to Northwestern?" she sputtered. Not only did the new bartender go to college, she went to a _great_ college.

"How'd you know?" Elinor smiled, reaching into a crate for a glass to dry.

"My parents met there," explained Santana. She took a sip. "What the hell are you doing in Lima?"

"My grandpa died a few months ago so I'm taking a semester off to keep my grandma company and help organize her house before finishing my B.A. The pace here is... refreshing."

"You mean boring," said Santana as she rolled her eyes.

Elinor smiled as she set down the glass and reached for another. "Maybe a little," she admitted. "But it's a nice break. Mixing drinks, playing cards with Nana, going for walks to think... It's not the worst hand to be dealt."

Santana couldn't help but think that Elinor's life did sound like the worst hand one could be dealt. Well, second worst. Her own was pretty bad at the moment. But Elinor's plight didn't seem to bother Elinor. She moved to wipe the bar a few seats down.

Santana took a sip of the drink Elinor had mixed. She raised her eyebrows; something was different about her signature drink, but not in a bad way. "Whoa, what's in here?" she asked, eyes wide.

"You like?" Elinor grinned, raising her eyebrow. Santana nodded fervently. Elinor's smile grew wider. "Orange liqueur. And a dash of rum."

"It's kind of awesome." Santana said, taking another large sip. And another.

After a few minutes Santana had drained her glass. She was feeling quite buzzed.

"That was quick. Rough day?" Elinor inquired.

"Rough month. The… person I like doesn't like me back. And we have to be around each other all the time and it just _sucks_," she said as she slammed down her glass. The moment her words echoed in her head, she silently begged herself to stop talking.

Elinor's face softened even more, if that was possible. "Hey," she said.

Santana stared down at her glass.

"Hey," Elinor persisted. Santana looked up at her. "It's not gonna be this way forever, mmkay? It sucks now, but I think you'd be surprised how you feel in a month or two. Whatever guy or girl has you down can't make you miserable forever."

Santana felt heat creep up her cheeks and looked away.

_Guy or girl._

She had to collect herself. "I'll be back," she mumbled. She slid off her stool to go use the bathroom. She swayed in her heels as she realized she was much drunker than she thought.

Elinor noticed her unsteadiness. "You OK there, McKinley?" she asked casually.

"My name's Santana," Santana frowned, finding her balance.

"I know," Elinor smirked.

Santana frowned harder, tilting her head.

Elinor said nothing, kept wiping the bar, and glanced briefly up at Santana.

Santana realized Elinor wasn't dumb. She knew Santana was underage.

When Santana returned from the bathroom, a fresh drink was at her seat. "But I didn't ask…" she started.

"Let me know what you think of _that_ one," Elinor called from down the bar.

Santana frowned. This was not her drink. She could see there was no grenadine in it and there was something dusted on top. She took a sip. And then another. And another.

"What's in it?" she asked, hinting at a compliment.

"Cream, crème de Cacao, Tequila, peppermint Schnapps and a dusting of cocoa."

"It tastes like Christmas," Santana stated. She kicked herself as soon as she said it, woefully aware of how _dumb _she sounded.

Elinor laughed. She moved down the bar to replace the drink of the only person left in the bar. Santana felt awkward when she realized she had been there so long. It was just her, Elinor, and some guy who she heard had to drop out of college after he injured himself and couldn't play hockey anymore. Elinor walked over, handing her a bill. Santana pulled out her dad's credit card and gave it to Elinor, who ran it through the machine and handed her a receipt. Santana tucked the receipt into her back pocket.

"How are you planning to get home, McKinley?"

Right. Hm. Well, usually Puck drove. Finn had said no. She couldn't call Quinn, not in a million years. She couldn't call Brittany. She could call Mr. Schue like she'd promised to do if she "slipped up," but that sounded really unappealing. Then she had an idea.

"My… I'm gonna… I'm gonna call my friend Holly."

And so she did.


	5. Jolly Holiday

**Chapter 5: Jolly Holiday**

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><p>"Morning, Sunshine!" Holly chirped as she opened the blinds in her living room.<p>

Santana rolled into the couch cushions to shield her eyes, groaning.

"No…." she moaned, objecting to everything about her current situation.

"Listen, Chica, you can lay there feeling like crap all day, but you're gonna have to sludge through it and deal at some point. And there's a plate of pancakes in the kitchen, so I suggest toughing it out now rather than later. 'Cuz the hotcakes go extra fast in the Holiday house, just like _everything_ else."

Santana picked her head up out of the cushions and grimaced. She dropped her legs to the ground and slowly, _slowly_ sat up. Her head was pounding and her legs were cramping.

"Aspirin's in here," Holly called from the kitchen.

Santana stood and walked into the kitchen, feeling more zombie than human. Her hair hung in front of her face as she took in her surroundings. A glass of water, bottle of aspirin, and a plate of pancakes and bacon sat at a small yellow table in Holly's quaint little kitchen. She sat down and brushed her hair away from her eyes. She took an aspirin.

"My parents…" Santana mumbled.

"They know where you are. We were working on another song for Glee, and it got late, so you crashed here."

"Thanks."

"So it's that bad, huh?" Holly asked.

"Yeah, I think they stopped watering down the alcohol at Gray's…" Santana whined.

"No, I mean Brittany."

Santana's heard thudded and there was a moment of silence.

"I don't wanna talk about it," Santana muttered.

"Of course you don't."

Santana took a few bites, trying to wait Holly out. But silence around Holly was always loaded, and she caved.

"She wants to stay with Artie. It fucking sucks. I don't know what's worse… liking a _girl_, or having her not like me back. It's confusing. How is it so easy for Brittany to be ok with whoever she likes, and it's the most impossible thing for me?"

Holly tilted her head and clucked her tongue in sympathy. "Aw, sweetie, I think _most_ people would feel like you feel right now. But Brittany's different. She has a perennial innocence about her that shields her from a lot."

There was a moment of silence. Santana's lip trembled and a tear slid down her cheek. "That's one of the things I love most about her," she squeaked, setting down her fork and putting her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook. Holly stood up and crouched next to Santana's chair and held her as she cried.

"I know, dollface. It's hard."

Santana cried for moment while Holly held her. She didn't like anyone seeing her cry, but she was too tired and her head was pounding too hard to care. Finally she pulled her hands away and Holly let go, remaining crouched by steadying herself on the back of Santana's chair.

"Maybe the best thing for right now is to fill up your time and take your mind off her. Find a distraction. Maybe a new hobby will give you some clarity."

"Maybe," Santana sniffled, eyes glued to her plate.

Holly went back to her chair and they ate the rest of their breakfast, making quiet smalltalk about Glee club and poking fun at Mr. Schue's vest collection.

Santana took her plate to the sink and rinsed it off. As the water swirled the crumbs down the drain, Santana felt a little lighter. "Thanks, Miss Holliday. I really appreciate you picking me up."

"Anytime, sweet cheeks. Now let me drive you to your car so you can get home and go back to sleep."


	6. Call Me

**Chapter 6: Call Me**

Chapter title and **soundtrack**: "Call Me" by Blondie. Try pulling it up on YouTube and listening while you read!

A/N: Bear with me, the chapters get longer after this one!

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><p>Time: Early one Friday morning, April 2011<p>

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><p>Santana stumbled around her bedroom in the early morning light. Amid the mess of clothes on the floor, she found the jeans she was looking for and pulled them on. As she scanned the floor for a clean shirt, she jammed her hands into her back pockets. Her left hand crinkled against a piece of paper. She pulled it out and saw it was a receipt from Gray's. She was about to toss it in the garbage when she noticed something scrawled on it - she squinted and saw it was a phone number with the name <em>Elinor Kelley<em> next to it. She stood still for a moment, frowning. Why had Elinor written her number on Santana's receipt? She brushed it off, tucked the receipt back in her pocket and continued getting dressed.

School was uneventful. She avoided spending time in the hallways, and after Glee club was over she darted out to her car alone. She sat in the driver's seat and sighed.

This sucked.

_Maybe what you need is something to distract you from her for a while,_ she heard Holly's advice echo through her head.

She skidded out of the parking lot and drove home.

Her parents were out of town at a conference that weekend. As it turns out, there was not much to do in the Lopez household alone on a Friday night. After she had skimmed through the DVR to see if there was anything interesting, she resolved that there was truly nothing to do now that Brittany wasn't around. The thought of Brittany made her chest clench and she desperately tried to think of something – anything – to distract herself with.

She still had that number in her back pocket. She pulled it out, stared at it for a minute, then put it away again. She wondered if most people in college just gave out their numbers like that. She considered that maybe Elinor just wanted to make friends. She was new in town, after all, and didn't know anyone except for her grandma.

Santana took a breath, pulled out her phone, and dialed the number. As it rang she contemplated hanging up. But then -

"Hello?" she heard Elinor's sugary voice answer.

"Hi, is this Elinor Kelley?"

"Uh huh…"

"It's Santana Lopez. I met you at Gray's last weekend."

"Oh hey, Santana! I'm glad you called. How are you?"

Santana was relieved that the call was received well. "I'm okay. Bored as hell. How are you?"

"I'm fine, just finished having dinner with Nana. I have the night off, so I'm trying to figure out what to do."

"Yeah, me too. Welcome to Lima," Santana griped, rolling her eyes.

"Well hey, how about _we_ find something to do? Nana's house is about half a mile from Gray's. Where are you?"

Santana was caught off guard by the up-front invitation. "Uh – um, I live in Lima Heights."

"Ok, great. Let's meet at Gray's and I'll show you one of my favorite spots in town. Bring a coat."

_A coat?_

"Ok, sure," Santana found herself agreeing. She was relieved at Elinor's hospitality. "Bye."

She got up from the couch and prepared to go out, wondering what on earth she was doing.


	7. In The Heights

**Chapter 7: In The Heights**

Time: Same day, an hour later.

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><p>Santana sat in the passenger's seat of Elinor's car, the motor vibrating as they sped up the hill.<p>

"I don't think I've ever met someone who _actually_ drove a Corvette," Santana mused, "Let alone a vintage one. Props for not picking red, by the way. Prince had it all wrong. Silver is definitely sexier."

"I agree," Elinor said with a grin.

"I bet you get some strange looks in Lima."

"I get strange looks _everywhere_. Once people realize it's a girl behind the wheel, they look confused. Like only guys can drive muscle cars."

"I like it, it's totally badass. It goes with your 'bar wench' persona," Santana said with a smirk.

"Bar wench?" Elinor giggled.

"Yeah, kinda sassy but not a bitch."

Elinor chuckled. "Bar wench… I like that. I think I can handle that persona. What's yours?"

"Um… well I _was_ a cheerleader. I got kicked off because I joined Glee club, which I know sounds _super_ lame, but sometimes it's fun. So I have that. And most people would probably say I'm a bitch. Whatever. I just try to keep things real."

"So you _are_ in high school," Elinor confirmed, glancing sideways at Santana with a smirk.

"Unfortunately. McKinley sucks," Santana muttered. "But just a few more months until summer, then I don't have to see any of those losers for a while."

"I think high school sucks no matter where you are," Elinor shrugged.

Santana pondered that for a minute. "Did it suck for _you_?" She doubted Elinor, with her casual confidence and familiarizing humor, had struggled with anything.

"Totally."

There was an awkward silence. Santana didn't know what to say, so she looked out the window. The road they were winding up had no houses or buildings, just trees and bushes and rocks.

"Where are we _going_, by the way?" she asked as they continued to climb the hill. Surprisingly she'd never been to the top of the only large hill in Lima.

"You'll see," Elinor taunted. "We're almost there."

Elinor stopped the car at the top of the hill. There was a deserted lookout point, and you could see all of Lima and beyond. They got out of the car and looked down. The stars above twinkled like reflections of the pin-point streetlights below. Santana gaped.

"No fucking way... _How_ have I never been here before? It's fucking gorgeous. Not to mention handy…."

Elinor laughed. "I used to spend summers in Lima with my family when I was little. There are some trails that lead from here we used to hike on."

"Well that would explain it, then. The Lopezes don't hike. Or do anything together as a family, actually."

The girls sat on the railing of the overlook, a few feet apart.

"I come here all the time now. It's beautiful in the daytime, too. I thought I'd show you because it's a great place to think. It helps put problems into perspective," Elinor said as she gazed out at the view.

Santana cringed as she remembered her over-share from Gray's. "Like how?" she asked skeptically.

"Well…" began Elinor. "I had my heart broken… and coming here made me realize I'd survive. Everything down there is so small… Kind of makes it seem like from somewhere, that hurt could be small too." A light breeze blew a few strands of her long hair across her face.

Santana felt awkward. Was she supposed to ask more questions? Comfort Elinor? Say nothing?

She opted for: "Yeah well… love's a bitch."

Elinor gave her a sad smile. "Not always…"

Santana wanted to change the subject. Luckily Elinor snapped out of her daze and swung her legs over railing, heading back to her car. She pulled a blanket out of her trunk. Spreading it out, she beckoned Santana over with her finger. Santana hopped down from the rail and sat on the blanket as Elinor went back to the trunk and pulled out several wine spritzers.

"I figured I'd make a habit of serving the underage population of Lima," Elinor said with a wink.

"They drink _wine coolers_ at Northwestern?" Santana sneered.

Elinor chuckled. "Hey, it's still college!"

Santana smiled and felt less lame.

"Cheers," Elinor gestured. They clinked their bottles together.

After a few minutes of looking at the lights, Santana grew more curious about Elinor. "So do you also make it a habit to give your number to people at Gray's?" she taunted.

"Nope. Only did that once… this one girl seemed kinda cool, like she knew what was up."

Santana looked away with a smug smile. Elinor was such a mystery; a smart bar-wench college girl who drove a silver Corvette, liked hiking and taking care of old people and gave her number to a high school girl in a bar.

"So what's your deal? I mean aside from making awesome cocktails…" Santana questioned, taking a sip of her wine cooler.

"My deal? I don't know that I have one."

"No, I mean… I can't get a read on you. You're in school and you bartend and you drive a hot car and take care of your grandma, but what else?"

Elinor grinned. "I'm studying sociology. I like figuring out why different cultures are the way they are. Lima culture is different than Columbus culture."

"Is that where you're from?" Santana asked.

"Not really. I was born in L.A., but we moved to Columbus when I was thirteen."

"That's a shitty age to move."

"Yup," Elinor agreed, taking a sip. "It sucked."

As they finished up the wine coolers, Santana found the conversation flowed naturally and she didn't need to make snarky comments. She asked about what life was like in L.A., about the move to Ohio, and what college was like. She heard about all the funny things that had happened at the bar Elinor worked at before she came to Lima, Elinor's crazy roommates, and how she had managed to buy that awesome vintage Corvette. Elinor asked about Cheerios and Glee club and seemed genuinely interested that New Directions had recently won Regionals. They talked about their families. Elinor's family seemed more like the families you see on TV, while Santana's two working parents were often absent.

After a few hours Santana grew tired and lay down on the blanket. It was a very warm night for April, and with her coat on she was quite comfortable. Elinor lay down on the other side of the blanket, her head by Santana's feet. Santana looked up at the stars and let the silence of the night surround her. She was sleepy. As she closed her eyes she realized she hadn't thought about Brittany in a while.

_Brittany…_

Santana wished she could share this view with her: the view and the stars and the night and the wine coolers - all of it. But most of all, she wanted to share the peaceful feeling she felt. She looked up at one star that seemed to be flickering, wishing that some day she would have Brittany here, holding pinkies, and knowing that even when they drove back down into town, Brittany was still all hers. She tried to shake herself out of the wish as it started to hurt.

"What do you want to be when you grow up, Elinor?" Santana murmured.

"Happy," Elinor mumbled, half-asleep.

Normally Santana would have scoffed at the saccharine reply, but she didn't. She was quiet for a minute. "Me too," she agreed.

And with that thought, the two girls fell asleep.


	8. Too Darn Hot

**Chapter 8: Too Darn Hot**

* * *

><p>Santana awoke to the first rays of sun on her face. Thankfully the wine coolers had only been strong enough to give her a buzz, so aside from being hungry and a little sore from sleeping on the ground, she was feeling quite refreshed. She sat up, took off her coat and pulled back her hair, smoothing it as she looked over at Elinor, who was still asleep. She stood up, walked to the ledge and swung her legs over the rail, perching there as she watched the sun climb higher in the sky. She could tell today would be one of the first hot days of the year. She closed her eyes and felt the sun on her face and started thinking about summer, when there would be no classes, no Sue Sylvester yelling, no lockers or books or dumb jocks, and no running into people who made her feel big, awful feelings…<p>

Elinor stirred behind her. Santana looked back as Elinor stretched her arms up and out across the blanket. She couldn't help but notice the flat, toned layer of abdomen that showed as Elinor stretched. She looked away.

"Morning." Santana grumbled.

"Good morning!" Elinor chirped, yawning and smiling. "God, are you as hungry as I am?"

"Definitely," replied Santana.

"I have some cookies and a bag of chips in the trunk if you want."

"Breakfast of champions," Santana smirked as she swung her legs back over the railing and rummaged in the trunk for the food.

The girls sat on the railing eating the cookies and chips and kicking pebbles down the hill. The silence wasn't awkward between them. That was new for Santana - the only other person she shared comfortable silence with was…

"You're right, it _is_ just as pretty up here during the day," Santana observed.

"You haven't seen the half of it," Elinor challenged, crumpling up the empty bags as she got up. "Hope you can keep up!"

Santana raised an eyebrow as Elinor tossed the trash and blanket in her trunk, took off her sweater and re-tied her shoes.

"Are we going for a run?" Santana frowned. "Because I'd rather sit that particular activity out," Santana stated, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Close," Elinor smiled. "Hiking. It'll be worth it, I promise."

Santana still looked skeptical.

"What, scared you can't cut it, Lopez?" Elinor challenged.

"No," Santana sneered. "Hiking just seems like walking made unnecessarily difficult. If I want to walk, I can walk down the _street_," Santana whined. "Better yet, I could drive."

"Dang… I thought you were cool," Elinor goaded, still smiling.

"_Fine_," Santana huffed. "But then I get to go home and wash off all the dirt and bugs."

Elinor grinned and held out her hand. Santana eyed it dubiously, then took it, allowing herself to be pulled toward the trailhead. Elinor's hand was soft and strong, and Santana felt a little on-edge. Luckily Elinor dropped her hand when they got to the trailhead a hundred yards away.

They had been walking for thirty hot, sweaty minutes when Santana's annoyance peaked.

"Ok, we've been walking for like an hour and that's _way_ too long on only a few hours of sleep. I seriously think we passed that same bush four times already. Plus, it's like a _million_ degrees. Are you going to pull out an axe and murder me in a minute?"

"Hang in there, just past the next switchback. No axes waiting to chop you up anywhere on this trail, promise."

Santana huffed and followed Elinor. It was _hot_. When they rounded the corner, Santana was stunned. They were overlooking the Lima reservoir, and it sparkled in the morning light. She had never seen it from this angle. It was breathtaking.

"Told you it'd be worth it," Elinor said triumphantly. "C'mon, let's hike down to it."

When they reached the shore of the reservoir, Santana sat down on a rock and looked at the water, listening to the soft lapping on the bank.

"What, you hiked all the way down here and you're not going to go in?" Elinor teased, walking towards the water. Elinor whipped off her shirt, revealing a toned torso clad only in a deep purple bra. She gathered her long hair behind her head and twisted it into an elegant, messy bun at the nape of her neck. Santana watched with rapt attention at the beauty undressing before her. Elinor undid her pants, pushing them down her legs and flicking them off onto a patch of grass. Elinor's body was smooth and soft, and had more of an hourglass shape than Santana was used to seeing in the locker room. She had little dimples at her lower back, which Santana found unbearably sexy. Her matching purple panties were in stark contrast with her creamy skin. Only when Elinor looked back did Santana avert her gaze.

"Come on, get in! I know you're not _shy_." Her challenge sounded almost flirtatious.

Santana hoped Elinor's comment wasn't a reference to her reputation that had somehow gotten around to Elinor, but Santana agreed that she wasn't shy. She did feel very young at the moment, though. She pulled off her shirt and pants, revealing matching black lingerie, and walked gingerly into the water. She may have walked faster if she hadn't been so wary of the water temperature. It was _very_ chilly. She got goosebumps all over her body. Elinor was already submerged and sent a fan of water towards Santana, soaking her.

"Oh, _hell_ no!" Santana laughed as she dove towards Elinor. When she reached her, she tried to dunk her head under, resulting in a splashing, giggling mess as they each tried to submerge the other in the icy water.

* * *

><p>Santana didn't know why she had changed her shirt four times. She was just having dinner with her new friend. She carried the bottle of wine she had stolen from her parents up the driveway of the address Elinor had given her.<p>

"Santana!" Elinor's voice called from around the side of the house. "This way!"

Santana redirected herself across the lawn to the side of the house, where she saw Elinor smiling at her. Elinor was wearing a form-fitting green cotton dress, which brought out the hint of red in her brown hair. She wore an apron across the front.

"Nana lives in the main house. I get the basement studio," Elinor explained. "That way I can come and go as I please and Nana doesn't worry."

The studio beneath the house was small, divided into three sections. A little galley kitchen stood to the left of the door, and Santana saw several pots and pans steaming and sizzling. Directly in front of the door was a tiny living room, with just enough room for a loveseat, a card table with two folding chairs, and a small TV on a bookshelf in the corner. To the right through a low doorway, Santana assumed, was the bedroom.

But what immediately caught Santana's eye was the table. Elinor had put a light blue tablecloth over it and set two places. A candle flickered between the plates.

"Welcome!" Elinor chirped.

Santana smiled nervously and handed Elinor the wine. "Sorry it's not cold…" she mumbled, eyes still scanning the apartment.

"No problem, I'll just stick it in the freezer for twenty minutes. And someone should tell your parents to lock up their good wine…" Elinor teased as she went into the kitchen. "Make yourself at home, dinner's almost ready," she called over the noise of the bubbling pans.

Santana set down her purse next to the TV and continued to look around. "Your place is cute," she remarked. She felt awkward again, unlike that night at the outlook or the day that followed. What was she _doing_ here? Elinor had invited her over for dinner. But this wasn't 'dinner' the way she had it with anyone else she knew. 'Dinner' at home was Chinese takeout slopped onto plates from the carton, or a free-for-all buffet-style meal at the Pierces'.

"Yeah, I can't complain. Sure beats the dorms," Elinor said, a few dishes clanging.

Santana scanned the bookshelf. She picked up a book titled _The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life_. It sounded mildly intriguing. She flipped through a few pages and decided no, it was _not_ actually intriguing.

Elinor walked into the living room and set two plates on the table. "Bon appetite," she sang, gesturing for Santana to sit. Santana put the book back on the shelf and sat.

The food was delicious. Baked chicken, steamed vegetables with peanut sauce, and roasted sweet potatoes with a cranberry glaze.

"Where'd you learn to cook?" Santana said, her tone hinting at a compliment.

"Nana taught me while I was here for summers. She's an amazing cook," Elinor explained.

"Must be a genetic thing. The Lopezes' culinary skills include picking up take-out and boiling water."

"Well you're a smart girl, I bet you could figure out how to turn an oven on. The rest is just chopping and seasoning," Elinor assured.

"Maybe…" Santana shrugged. Her gaze fell on the candle between their plates. Why did that candle seem so out of place to her? It was almost taunting. She tried to ignore it, asking why Elinor had chosen to major in sociology.

"I'm interested in how society shapes families. You know, like, how different cultures accept different kinds of families. I have a nuclear family, but most people these days don't. Depending on where you live, society has a different attitude towards that."

"That makes sense," Santana considered, chewing.

"It's interesting to think about it over time, too. What's not accepted in Lima today might be fine in ten years."

"Like how?" questioned Santana.

"Well, it's a pretty basic sociological principle that legislative policy influences society's attitudes about something. Even though it's still not totally perfect, in general there is more acceptance of interracial couples since desegregation. But without the civil rights movement and its amendment, we probably would still be as prejudiced as we were in the sixties."

"So… what kind of policy would change things in Lima in the next ten years?" Santana asked, looking up at Elinor as she took a bite and chewed.

"I think gay marriage would be the biggest one," Elinor shrugged.

"Hm, maybe," Santana dismissed, looking back down at the candle and then at her food and thinking that gay marriage in Lima was about as likely as pigs flying_. _The girls sat in silence for a few minutes as they finished their food.

"Hey, the wine's probably cold now," Elinor suggested. She cleared their plates and came back with two wine glasses and the bottle of sauvignon blanc. Elinor sat on the small couch and patted the seat next to her. Santana joined her with hesitation. Elinor poured them each a glass and handed one to Santana. "Cheers," she said, clinking their glasses.

The girls took a sip. It was light, fruity and crisp: perfect for a summer evening. Santana relaxed more as the wine softened her. She smiled at Elinor and Elinor smiled back.

"So now that I've talked your ear off about sociology, what about you?"

"They don't have majors in high school. What kind of school did _you_ go to?" Santana snickered.

"I know, but are you planning to go to college?"

"Yeah, definitely. Don't know where, though. I have a little while to figure that out," Santana said casually.

"That's true. Do you know what you want to study?"

"Well, I've always kind of been interested in law. Sometimes how to get around it, but mostly how it structures things. It's a very complicated and abstract thing, really."

"That's very true. You'd make a great lawyer."

"Psh," Santana laughed.  
>"You're very persuasive," Elinor smiled.<p>

Santana scanned the movies on the bookshelf and took a drink of wine. "So which one's your favorite?" she asked, nodding towards the shelf.

"Hmm… tough call. Take a guess!" Elinor suggested, taking a big sip of wine.

"Well… _Coyote Ugly_ would be too obvious… and I don't really take you for a musical kind of person, so _Chicago_ is out… maybe… _How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days_?" Santana guessed.

"Nope, guess again…"

"How about… _10 Things I Hate About You_?"

"Nope," said Elinor, shaking her head and smiling as she took another sip.

"_Finding Nemo_?"

"That belongs to my cousin, I don't really do cartoons."

"I give up," Santana yielded.

"_Love, Actually_."

"Aw man, really? You're one of _those_ saps?" Santana whined.

"I'm a marshmallow on the inside. Don't let my sassy bar wench exterior fool you!" Elinor chuckled. "Okay, now I get to guess yours," Elinor said. "I bet I'll get it on the first guess."

"Oh, yeah, _right_," Santana scoffed. "Not likely. It's not even on your shelf."

"Wanna make a bet?" Elinor raised.

"Sure, how much?"

"Twenty bucks."

"Psh, no way, I'm in high school! I don't have that kind of money."

"No, but your dad does," Elinor chided. "I closed your tab and your name is _clearly_ not Antonio Lopez."

Santana rolled her eyes.

Elinor continued: "Okay, if I guess right, you have to pay for my drinks for a night at Gray's. A night I'm _not_ working, because my drinks are free then. Not that I'd do that."

"But that's more than twenty bucks!" Santana protested.

"Geez, make me sound like I have drinking problem!" Elinor laughed.

"And what if you get it wrong?" Santana challenged.

"Then _I_ have to pay for your drinks for a night at Gray's."

"Well, there's _no_ way you're going to guess right, out of all the thousands of movies in the world, so you're on."

Elinor extended her hand to shake. Santana raised an eyebrow in doubt, but shook anyway.

"So what is it? What's my _favorite_ movie?" Santana mocked, taking her final sip of wine.

Elinor took a long sip of wine with a devilish grin on her face. "_Cruel Intentions_," she said.

"No _fucking_ way!" Santana exclaimed, hitting Elinor on the shoulder with a pillow. "_Who_ told you?" she demanded.

Elinor laughed and batted the pillow away as Santana continued assaulting her with it. "No one! Who would have told me? You're literally one of five people I know in this town, and the _only_ one who goes to McKinley."

"You read it on my Facebook page, then!" Santana accused with a smile.

"Nana doesn't have internet, plus I'm not even your friend on Facebook, so that rules out _that_ theory. Sorry, play again."

"_How_ did you know?" Santana demanded again.

"I just _guessed_. You're not as mysterious as you think, Lopez," Elinor teased. "Or maybe I can read your mind…"

"Damn, I can't believe I shook on that…" Santana muttered.

Elinor finished her wine and they fell into a comfortable silence. Santana was happy. Elinor didn't seem to mind her snarkiness. Perhaps she even enjoyed it.

"I don't think I've ever had wine from an actual wine glass before," Santana considered, looking at her empty glass, setting it on the table.

"It's always good to try new things," said Elinor with a smile, setting her glass on the floor.

Before Santana knew what was happening, she felt Elinor's lips on hers in a jolting kiss. She felt every inch of skin from her toes to her fingers to the top of her head flare up with electricity. She pressed into the kiss, slowly raising her hand and placing it on Elinor's back as she felt Elinor's tongue running along her lower lip. She granted entrance and felt a tingle all the way down her spine to her center. Their lips danced for a few moments together, the contents of the apartment and the town scattering from Santana's mind. It could have been two minutes or twenty before Elinor broke away.

Elinor smiled at the stunned and panting girl beside her. "Is that new for you too?" she murmured.

"No, I was just a little sur-"

"Good," Elinor exhaled, falling back onto Santana's lips.

Her arms wrapped around Santana's torso, and Santana put her hand behind Elinor's neck, resuming their lip lock. Santana felt her whole body relax, as if someone had released a crucial pressure valve. It was a long-awaited exhale.

"How did you…?" Santana asked, pausing to breathe.

"Mmm… I caught you checking me out a few times," Elinor admitted with a playful smile. "It's not like I just go around kissing random girls, hoping for the best. I do my research first."

"Oh," Santana frowned. She was disappointed she had been so obvious, but was rather enjoying herself. She leaned forward to kiss Elinor with renewed fervor.

After a few moments, Elinor pressed harder into Santana, pushing her back against armrest of small couch. Santana complied, never taking her lips from Elinor's, running her hand down her back to the base of her spine and back up again. Elinor pulled her hands out from under Santana and held Santana's waist firmly. Elinor moved her mouth from Santana's lips to her cheek, nibbling on Santana's ear and moving slowly down her neck. Santana shivered in delight. She was acutely aware of the weight of Elinor's hips on top of hers and the warmth that grew between her legs. Their breath was rising and falling in unison. Elinor's hand pushed under Santana's shirt, and suddenly the electricity Santana felt was icy. This was all wrong. As Elinor's hand climbed higher up Santana's stomach, she was shaken from her sexual stupor and found herself in a state of panic.

Santana sat up quickly and jerked Elinor's hand away. She stood, intensely self-conscious, straightening her shirt and smoothing her hair.

"I… I have something I have to do," she stuttered, reaching for her purse. "I'll see you later." She bolted out the door, not looking back.


	9. Club Can't Handle Me

**Chapter 9: Club Can't Handle Me**

Chapter soundtrack: "Club Can't Handle Me" by Flo Rida

A/N: I've been pleasantly surprised by your reactions to Elinor- I thought Brittana shippers would _hate_ her, so I braced myself for the worst.

* * *

><p>As she drove home, Santana wondered why kissing Elinor had felt so wrong. She was single, right? She was done with Sam. Puck wouldn't have cared. Brittany was kissing Artie. Her chest clenched and she pressed her foot on the gas at the thought. Really, there was no one who could object, so it really hadn't been wrong.<p>

Santana ran this argument through her head for the next few days. It was Spring Break and she was bored. She realized it had been dumb to run out of Elinor's apartment like that. It made her look like a stupid high school kid. She grudgingly pulled out her phone and called Elinor.

"Hey, El. It's Santana."

"Hi, Santana," Elinor said with surprise.

Santana launched into her usual proposition: "Listen, I was thinking we could go out tonight. Have a few drinks, dance, and decompress. You can cash in on that bet you rigged."

"Umm… ok, sounds fun. Meet me at my place, Gray's is just five blocks away. I'll be ready by the time you get here."

This was new to Santana. Usually _she_ was the one being picked up. Nevertheless, she agreed. "Great. Be there in fifteen."

* * *

><p>Elinor opened the door of her apartment, wearing a clinging purple dress that only came halfway down her thighs. Santana tried not to look.<p>

"Hey."

"All ready, Lopez?" Elinor chirped.

"Yep. It's Spring Break and most people are out of town. I doubt anyone from McKinley will be at Gray's, so you don't have to worry about me ditching you for some high school losers."

"Well I would hope not, but after dinner last time… guess ya never know," Elinor jibed, raising her eyebrows.

Santana glanced the other way as Elinor locked her door. They started walking into town.

"I just… I dunno. I felt weird. Sorry… It was fine. I was just surprised," Santana sputtered.

"Whatever. Are you… I mean, have you ever been with a girl?" Elinor asked.

"Like, had sex with a girl? Yeah, I have," Santana skirted the issue.

"Ok. I wasn't sure," replied Elinor.

There was an awkward silence.

Elinor grinned and broke into a run. "Race ya!" she called over her shoulder.

Santana exhaled and chased Elinor the rest of the way to the club.

After a few strong cocktails, Santana didn't bother to avert her eyes from Elinor in that purple dress as they sat perched on their bar stools. When they had both finished their third drink, Elinor put down her glass and pulled Santana onto the dance floor. It was so loud they couldn't carry on a conversation, but Santana could tell Elinor's mind was elsewhere as she danced. She may not have been the best dancer Santana had _ever_ seen… _don't think about Brittany right now_… but then again, Elinor wasn't a bad dancer either. She radiated sex. Santana danced closer.

As the beat went on, she found herself pressed flush against Elinor, their bodies undulating in unison. Santana could feel that pressure build up. She looked around the room for a surge of confidence. Finding that everyone else was enclosed in their own little bubbles, Santana put her hand behind Elinor's neck and pulled her into a kiss. Elinor reacted as if she had expected it. They started grinding against each other, thoughts and worries blissfully drowned out by the bass. If she had been sober, Santana would have flinched when she felt Elinor's hand on her ass. But instead, Santana slid her hand up to Elinor's clothed breast in response, feeling its softness and fullness. Her breathing was becoming ragged, and with one look into Elinor's eyes she could tell Elinor felt as pent up as she did. She took a deep breath, realizing what she was about to say.

"Do you want to get out of here?" she said into Elinor's ear, loud enough to be heard over the music.

Elinor pulled her head back and nodded. Santana paid the tab and they ran back to Elinor's house.

They could barely get in the door before they were pulling off shoes and sweaters, trying to maintain lip contact throughout. After the door was shut, Santana pushed Elinor up against it, kissing and biting down her neck to her collarbone. Both girls were panting from the half-mile run back from Gray's. Elinor wrapped her arms around Santana's waist and started pushing them away from the door towards the bedroom.

Elinor stopped pressing Santana backwards when they arrived at the middle of the bedroom. Not wanting to push Santana past whatever comfort zone she had, Elinor continued ravaging Santana's mouth, neck and ears, but kept her hands around Santana's waist. After a few minutes, Santana broke away, staring into Elinor's eyes with a hungry expression. She needed that pressure valve released. She pulled Elinor's dress up and over her head quickly and then took a step back and started unbuttoning her own shirt. Elinor watched Santana's hands as they worked their way down each button and then continued on to the buttons on her pants, pushing them down in one smooth motion and kicking them to the side. Elinor stepped forward towards Santana and pulled her shirt off her shoulders and dropped it on the floor.

Taking Santana by the arms, Elinor turned her around so she was facing away from her towards the wall. She pressed against Santana's back, sliding her arms around her waist. She reached down and raked her fingernails over Santana's thighs and up her stomach, then cupped her breasts. Santana felt hot shivers all over her body and closed her eyes and leaned back into Elinor. They moved against each other in subtle undulations. Santana tilted her head back onto Elinor's shoulder. Elinor squeezed her breasts and Santana groaned. Elinor looked over Santana's shoulder at what her hands were doing.

"Is this okay?" Elinor husked. She was never sure what was going through Santana's mind.

Santana took Elinor's hand and pushed it down her stomach and into her panties. Elinor moaned at the brazen act, feeling Santana's smooth mound and wet, warm folds. She ran her fingers along them as best she could with the panties on. She drew circles with her index and middle finger around Santana's clit, causing Santana to buck and her knees to give a little. Santana reached her arms around behind Elinor's neck for support. After a few minutes Elinor thrust two fingers inside Santana. Santana shuddered and let out a shaky moan. She pushed her hips into Elinor's hand, finding a rhythm.

Santana felt outside of herself. Standing in the middle of the room, she could physically feel everything going on around and inside her, but she wasn't present. Elinor could have been anyone.

Feeling dissociated, Santana did what she usually did when her anxiety flared: took control. She stilled Elinor's hand and pulled it out, turned around and shoved Elinor onto the bed. She crawled up Elinor's body so she was straddling her, relishing how good it felt to be in control. She snaked her hands up Elinor's body with a wicked grin on her face. She leaned over and began assaulting Elinor's neck with her mouth as she ground down on Elinor with her pelvis. The friction felt _so_ good through her soaked panties. Roughly kneading Elinor's breasts, Santana heard Elinor's breathing become ragged as she let out little moans.

"_God_, you're wicked," Elinor panted.

Santana grinned and lifted her hips, sliding a hand down Elinor's stomach and into her panties. She trembled when she felt Elinor's wetness, shutting her eyes for a second as she exhaled. Regaining composure, she ran her index finger over Elinor's clit, forcing Elinor's eyes shut and her back to arch. Santana leaned all the way forward and buried her head in the nook of Elinor's neck as she slid a finger inside Elinor's heat and began to pump in and out. She added another finger. Elinor writhed beneath her.

Just as Santana thought Elinor was becoming lost in pleasure, she felt Elinor's hand dip into her own panties. Circling Santana's clit for a moment, Elinor's fingers thrust back into Santana. Santana felt the rush go through her body and out her fingers and toes. She moaned. The girls pumped in and out of each other until they both began to tense. Wanting release, Santana began to thrust her hips forward into Elinor's, pushing both of their hands deeper into each other and creating pressure on both their clits. Elinor grunted softly with each thrust until Santana felt Elinor's walls clenching around her fingers. Santana felt herself tense at the sensation, aroused by the thought that she had the girl powerless beneath her and could push her over the edge with a few well-placed touches. She ran her thumb over Elinor's clit as she added a third finger to Elinor's center. She licked Elinor's ear and purred, "Me gusta follarte." _I like fucking you_.

With that, Elinor's entire body tensed and she let out a long moan as she crushed Santana's fingers. As Elinor's body seized, her fingers curled inside Santana, and Santana was sent plunging into her climax. Finally, the pressure Santana had felt building up since she met Elinor was released. She lay limp on top of her, panting as the last few shivers ran through her. "Tal cual, mamacita." _Just like that, baby. _She extracted her hand from Elinor's panties, wiped it on the sheets, and rolled onto her side, facing away from Elinor. As soon as her breathing slowed, she drifted off to sleep.

She woke with a start several hours later, feeling the after-effects of the alcohol and the residual stickiness of their fucking. The light in the room was different; was it the moon, or a streetlight? Something was eerie about it to her. Her heart pounded and she listened to Elinor's soft breathing on the other side of the bed. Whenever she awoke from a nightmare, the terror subsided eventually. But this time there hadn't been a nightmare, and the panic didn't die down. It just ballooned until she couldn't bear it anymore. She slid out of the bed, got dressed and tiptoed into the living room, where she silently put on her shoes and grabbed her purse and keys. She slipped out into the night and drove home to the empty Lopez house. She crawled into her bed, and a single tear fell from her eyes as she drifted into a long, dreamless sleep.


	10. She Can Only Hold Her

**Chapter 10: She Can Only Hold Her**

Chapter title song: "He Can Only Hold Her" by Amy Winehouse

A/N: WHOA! So surprised and flattered you like Elinor so much!

* * *

><p>The following weekend, Santana called Elinor with her trademark proposition. "You up for drinks, El?" she swaggered.<p>

"What?" Elinor asked with a hint of resentment. "You want to hang out?"

"Totes. What are you up to tonight?" Santana replied casually.

"Well, I'm working. But really, _again_?"

"Um, yeah," Santana said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Why _wouldn't_ I want to hang out with you? You're awesome and you're twenty-one. You're _super_ hot and you never propose singing about something as a potential solution to a problem."

"I'm not asking why you want to hang out with me, Santana. I'm pissed because you left without explanation last time, and now you expect me to pretend it didn't happen? Because that's _so_ not how it's gonna go down."

"I was just having a hard time sleeping," Santana spat, defenses up.

"If you don't want to hook up anymore, we can stop. Just tell me. I'm a reasonable person," Elinor said, her voice remaining gentle.

Santana softened a little bit. "No, I think it's fun. I had a good time. Why would we _stop_?" she cringed, hearing there was still a sliver of ice in her voice.

"Well, if something isn't okay, you need to tell me," Elinor insisted.

"No, I'm okay with it. You're not a bad lay, El."

"You're not so bad yourself."

Santana could hear Elinor smiling and was relieved the tension was broken.

"So… do you want to hang out tonight?" Santana pressed.

"Well…" Elinor sounded skeptical. "Tell you what, come by the bar later, it should be slow. I'll show you how to mix a few of my favorites. Then we'll see."

"Do I get free drinks out of it?" Santana asked playfully.

"Don't push your luck, Lopez."

* * *

><p>"Can you put that tray under the counter?" Elinor asked as she locked the door of the bar.<p>

Santana did as she was asked and began wiping down the bar.

"Look at that, you're a natural. If you were old enough to work here, you'd be making _crazy_ tips," Elinor complimented.

Santana smiled as she continued to help Elinor close down the bar. After she put the last few chairs up on the tables, Santana shifted her weight back and forth as she leaned on the bar, watching Elinor tidy behind the counter, wondering what would happen next.

"So… now what?" Santana asked.

Elinor was facing away from Santana, her hands wiping down bottles and glasses, hair swaying down her back as she reached up to place each bottle on the bar shelf. "Now we put all the chairs on the tables," Elinor replied.

"I did that already."

"And sweep the floor."

"Did that too…"

There was a moment of silence. Santana took a breath and walked around the bar and stood behind Elinor. She placed her hands on Elinor's hips. Elinor stopped moving.

"How about you show me how to make one of your signature drinks," Santana murmured into Elinor's ear.

"You're not supposed to be behind the bar…" Elinor said as she trembled under Santana's hands.

"No one has to know. I promise I'll be on my best behavior," Santana whispered as she brushed her lips against Elinor's neck.

"Well…" said Elinor, turning around. "You make it pretty hard to say no…" A smile spread across her face.

"We're not doing anything _wrong_, are we?" Santana purred with a sly grin.

"You mean, is this thing with us illegal, since you're a minor?" Elinor asked, dropping all hints of flirtation.

Santana hadn't considered _that_. She snapped out of her coquette act. "Well I hadn't thought of that… but uh… is it?" She bit her lip, trying to mask her concern.

"Not in Ohio, since you're over sixteen. At least that's what the _law_ says," Elinor shrugged.

"Good to know…"

Santana wrapped her arms around Elinor and pressed her up against the bar, nuzzling her neck. Elinor closed her eyes.

"You sure you want to do this, Santana?" Elinor murmured.

Santana nodded into Elinor's neck. "I won't run away this time," she assured.

With that, Elinor wrapped her arms around Santana and kissed her. She lifted Santana up onto the bar. Santana lay down lengthwise, making sure not to hit any bottles with her feet.

Elinor stepped up onto a crate and hoisted herself up, easing herself down on top of Santana. "Seems we have something very special on tap tonight…" she said with a wicked grin.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Santana awoke in Elinor's small, sunny bedroom. She could hear Elinor in the kitchen making breakfast. As she sat up and pulled on a shirt, she couldn't help but be a little proud that she didn't run away. She walked into the kitchen in only a shirt and panties.<p>

"Good morning…" Santana smiled from the doorway of the kitchen.

"Well, good _morning_," Elinor returned the smile, giving Santana an approving once-over. "Did you sleep well?"

Santana nodded and yawned. "What are you making?" she asked.

"Dutch apple pancakes and scrambled eggs," replied Elinor. "Want to help?"

"I can't cook…" Santana mumbled, shaking her head.

"Of course you can. C'mere," Elinor gestured with her head. Santana walked toward her. "Can you crack an egg?" Elinor asked.

"I think so."

Elinor pulled her towards the counter and stood behind her, arms laced through Santana's, guiding her hands with the eggs. "Here... Just like that," she encouraged. "Told ya you can cook."

"Breaking an egg isn't cooking," Santana said, rolling her eyes.

"Now add some of that," Elinor said, pointing to the salt, pepper and chives on the counter. Santana did, enjoying the warmth of Elinor's body behind her as she stirred the eggs and spices together.

"Now just some cheese and a little milk…" Elinor prompted. Santana mixed those in too. "And then turn on the heat."

"Well, I can do _that,_" Santana purred, turning to give Elinor a sly grin.

"Mm hm…" Elinor agreed, pressing into Santana. Santana planted a kiss on Elinor's cheek and picked up the spatula.

After they ate their breakfast, Santana set down her fork and sighed, smiling. "That was really good," she said.

"I'll send the chef your compliments," Elinor said with a wink.

"I'm kind of interested in cooking. Would you… could you teach me to cook more things?" Santana asked.

"Of course," Elinor grinned.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe it's already July. What happened to June?" Santana whined.<p>

They were lying on their backs in their bathing suits, sunning by the reservoir. A few towels were spread beneath them. It was warm and the tiniest hint of a breeze wafted over them. Santana had her eyes closed under her dark sunglasses.

"It got eaten up. All that cooking, hiking, swimming…"

"Fucking," Santana added.

"Yes, I think that's where the _majority_ of June went. Has anyone ever told you you're insatiable?" Elinor laughed.

"Well, I'm sure if the fine students of McKinley knew that word, they might have," Santana snickered. "It's nice that you can keep up, though. High school boys have _no_ stamina."

Elinor laughed. "Well, I'm glad to be of service."

Santana rolled over so she was pressed up against Elinor's side. She ran her finger slowly from Elinor's lips down to her belly button as she licked her own lips. She leaned in and whispered into Elinor's ear, "_You can service me any time…_"

Normally Elinor would have laughed at the bad line, but she was distracted by Santana's hand undoing the button on her shorts.

"Oh, really now…" Elinor bought in.

"Uh huh…" Santana murmured.

Before Santana could finish unzipping Elinor's shorts, Elinor grasped her wrist and swung her leg over Santana's torso, forcing her onto her back. She pinned both Santana's wrists above her head.

"And let's say, I manage to make you _scream_ while I'm servicing you… how will you pay me for my service?" Elinor hummed.

"By returning the favor," Santana lilted, raising an eyebrow.

"And if I told you that you had to find some other way?" Elinor mused.

"Then… I would…" Santana tried to think of another means to express her gratitude. "Clean out your car?"

Elinor shook her head.

"Fold your laundry?"

Elinor kept shaking her head with a smile.

"… Cook dinner for you?"

Still no.

"… wearing nothing but an apron?"

"You got yourself a deal," Elinor agreed, releasing Santana's wrists, leaning down to begin ravaging Santana's neck.

As Elinor sucked and nibbled her way between Santana's ear and collar bone, her hand wrapped around Santana's waist, holding her steady beneath her. She slid her hand down, admiring the slight curve of Santana's hip. Her hand roamed back up, cupping Santana's breast in its flimsy bikini top. She tore herself away from Santana's neck and crawled backwards so she was kneeling between Santana's feet. Santana watched from beneath her giant sunglasses as Elinor leaned forward and bit the waistband of Santana's bikini bottom with her teeth. She tugged, and Santana took the hint, raising her hips so that with a few shakes of Elinor's head, Santana's bathing suit bottom slid down and was pulled off. Elinor ran her nails from Santana's ankles up her legs, pressing down at her thighs and raking over her hipbones. Her hands continued upwards, sliding over the material of Santana's top, over her collarbone, and back up to secure Santana's wrists above her head. Elinor leaned down, returning her mouth to Santana's neck, only this time to bite the end of the string that tied her top. With one tug and a pull of the lower strap, it loosened and Elinor discarded the flimsy material.

"I swear, every time I fuck you, you get hotter," Elinor murmured as she took in Santana's naked body on the towel below her.

Santana gave her a wicked grin, arms still pinned above her head. "Every time you fuck me, I _am_ hotter," she swaggered.

Elinor giggled and shook her head. "So fucking cocky…" she muttered.

"I don't see any cocks around…" Santana teased. "Unless they're hiding in the bushes perving on us. Which, you know, I wouldn't blame them," she shrugged, "We're pretty hot together…"

"Shhh…" Elinor shushed, grazing her lips over the swell of Santana's breast.

Santana closed her eyes and took in every sensation. Her back on the towel with tiny pebbles beneath it; the sun soaking into her skin, prickling as her body glistened with a fine layer of sweat; the quiet lapping of the water; Elinor's hands on her wrists, her mouth on Santana's breast; suction building around her nipple; her wrists being released; light scratching down her sides and up her legs; kissing and nibbling on her earlobes; tiny bites on her neck; warm breath on her collarbone; fingers tangling in her hair.

A breeze on her naked sex made her aware of how wet she was. Elinor was lavishing attention everywhere _but_ where she wanted it most. Santana began to vibrate with anticipation. There were hands sliding down her torso, over her hips and onto her thighs, spreading them. Santana smiled, her pulse throbbing.

And then she felt something velvety, warm and wet slowly graze over her clit. She looked down to see Elinor's head between her legs.

"_No_!" she yelped, sitting up halfway in a panic.

"What?" Elinor gasped, looking up, confused.

"Don't… don't do that! Do the other thing, the thing you always did before. With your hands."

"You don't want me to go down on you?" Elinor asked, hurt.

"No. It's just… I don't know, it feels weird." Santana tried calm down.

"Well yeah, it's going to feel different than my fingers… that's the point," Elinor smirked.

Santana was no stranger to oral sex. She'd had lots of it; giving, unfortunately, but also receiving, which she had enjoyed. But those times were different. Those times were with boys, or with – she tried to push Brittany out of her mind _-_ well, mostly with boys, and boys she didn't care about, at that. And usually in the dark, where they couldn't see much, or after they had been drinking. In those situations, she had some mask of safety. But here in broad daylight, completely sober and completely naked - with a girl - was different. Her dark sunglasses were not enough of a mask for her. She was surprised at her own sudden prudishness.

"No, it's not that. I just mean… I don't like the idea of your face being all up in my business. Like it's all just _there_. Isn't it weird for you?" she asked, trying to rationalize her reaction.

"No, I like the way you look," Elinor shrugged. "And it makes me feel… close to you."

"Well… you can still be close to me with your hand?" Santana suggested, trying not to kill the mood entirely.

"Please?" asked Elinor gently, kissing Santana's smooth mound.

Santana shook her head and pulled Elinor's chin up. Elinor sighed and sat up as Santana lay back down. Elinor crawled over Santana's torso, lying on top of her with her chin on Santana's shoulder. Santana relaxed a little bit. This felt safer. Elinor ran her hand up Santana's side.

The electricity was gone.

Trying to rekindle their energy and soothe her guilt, Santana slid her hand between their bodies, slipping her fingers under the waistband of Elinor's unbuttoned shorts and bikini bottom.

"Don't worry about it," Elinor said, her voice sounding glum as she tried to pull Santana's hand out.

"No, I want to," Santana assured. She felt bad for shutting Elinor down.

Elinor sighed and let her continue as Santana drew soft circles with her fingertips over her smooth mound. When Elinor's breathing became raspy, Santana slid two fingers inside. Elinor reached down and began drawing circles around Santana's clit. Santana felt the buzz start to pick up again. With her other hand, Santana dragged her nails down Elinor's back, feeling the sweat from Elinor's skin collect under her fingernails. Elinor bit her lip and picked up the pace. Santana began thrusting her hips upwards, creating pressure on their hands between their bodies. She dragged her nails down Elinor's back again. Elinor's back arched at the sensation and her sex clenched around Santana's fingers. Santana kept thrusting and scratching, curling her fingers every few thrusts. Elinor dug the fingers of her free hand into Santana's side.

"God, I just want to come, Santana," Elinor moaned in frustration.

"Cláveme más fuerte," Santana moaned.

That sent Elinor flying into her orgasm, during which her fingers always curled inside Santana. Santana closed her eyes as she felt the familiar pressure inside as her body seized for a moment. Her back arched up before falling back onto the towel. Both girls exhaled as their bodies came down from their climax.

"_God_ I love it when you curse at me in Spanish while we're fucking," Elinor said, still panting as she rolled off Santana and onto the towel. "It works, _every_ time."

"No problem," Santana mumbled without moving. She kept her eyes closed and rolled onto her side toward the bank of the reservoir. She had felt the release in her body, but mostly, she was relieved it was over.


	11. Bittersweet Symphony

**Chapter 11: Bittersweet Symphony**

Chapter title and **soundtrack**: "Bittersweet Symphony" by The Verve.

* * *

><p>Santana walked across the lawn and around the side of the house to Elinor's door. Holding the bottle of wine in her right hand, she knocked with the left. The door swung open. There was Brittany, wearing pink lingerie under a ruffled white apron.<p>

"Hi, Brittany!" Santana chirped. "You look great!"

"Thanks, you look great too! You know I love you in purple," Brittany replied, taking the bottle of wine from Santana's hand. "Come in."

Santana walked in and set down her purse. "What's for dinner?" she asked.

"Ice cream," smiled Brittany. "It's so hot today."

"You needed to wear an apron to make ice cream?" Santana asked.

"No, I just like this apron…" Brittany mused. "So what first, ice cream or wine?"

"I guess that's not the best combo, is it?" Santana pondered. "You choose, Britt."

"Ice cream, definitely. Do you want vanilla or chocolate?"

"Vanilla to start," Santana answered.

Santana watched as Brittany turned and went into the kitchen. She heard the clatter of dishes as Brittany took down two bowls.

"Do you know where Elinor keeps her spoons?" Brittany asked.

"Top drawer to the left of the sink," Santana replied, setting down her purse and taking off her shoes. She stripped down to her underwear and sat on the loveseat. She couldn't stop smiling.

Brittany came back into the living room with two bowls of ice cream. She sat on the floor and began to eat. Santana scooted off the loveseat and joined Brittany on the floor.

"So what did you want to do tonight, Britt?" Santana asked, spooning ice cream into her mouth.

"I kind of want to stay in. We could watch _Cruel Intentions_ and drink that wine."

"That sounds fun," Santana said. "But we don't have to watch that one. I know it makes you sad, because he dies just when he turns nice."

"Don't give away the ending!" Brittany exclaimed with a mouth full of ice cream.

"But you've already seen it…" Santana said with an amused frown.

"Still. I like to pretend I haven't every time."

"You're sweet for suggesting that one," Santana said with a smile. "But I don't want to watch a movie…"

"Ok. We could go to Gray's?" Brittany said, taking another bite.

"No, I want to stay in, too," Santana said. "And do this."

She took a bite of ice cream and leaned in to kiss Brittany. She ran her tongue over Brittany's bottom lip. The cold of the ice cream and the warmth of their lips mixed together as they tasted the ice cream in each other's mouths; vanilla in Santana's and chocolate in Brittany's.

"We make a swirl," Brittany grinned as Santana pulled away. Her expression turned wide-eyed as she realized the ambiguity of her statement. "I meant the ice cream! Sorry, that sounded racist…" Brittany trailed off, blushing.

"I know what you meant," Santana chuckled. "I want another swirl," she murmured, offering Brittany a spoonful of ice cream. Brittany licked the spoon clean before leaning back in to kiss Santana.

Santana took a spoonful of ice cream and spread it on Brittany's neck, where it started sliding down towards her cleavage. Santana licked it up as she felt Brittany shiver. Once Santana had licked the ice cream off Brittany, Brittany spooned ice cream onto Santana and licked it clean. Then Brittany jumped up and bounded into the kitchen. She returned with a plate of strawberries, only to continue into the bedroom. As Brittany reached the doorway, she turned and looked back at Santana. "Bring the ice cream," she said, with a glint in her eye that made Santana groan.

Santana grabbed the bowls and followed Brittany into the bedroom.

Brittany knelt on the bed in her pink lingerie, having discarded the apron. Santana could see a drip of ice cream she had missed on the swell of Brittany's breast. The plate of strawberries sat on the sheets in front of Brittany. Brittany picked one up, pulled off the leaves, and put it between her teeth. Santana set the ice cream on the table next to the bed and grinned. She knelt in front of Brittany, put her lips around the strawberry, sinking her teeth into it and biting off half. She chewed while Brittany bent forward and slid the remaining half down Santana's neck.

Santana swallowed. "I missed you, Britt," she sighed, tilting her head to expose more of her neck to Brittany, who raised her lips back to Santana, offering her the other half of the strawberry. Santana took it in her mouth.

"Not as much as I missed you," murmured Brittany as she licked the strawberry juice off Santana's neck, lavishing extra attention on the spot that made Santana's breath catch a bit.

Santana felt understood from her head to her toes when she was with Brittany, and not just in her body. There was something _spiritual_ about being together. To be held and seen and cherished by another person is a miraculous experience, and Santana knew that this kind of connection was one in a million. As Brittany's tongue licked the last of the juice from Santana's neck, Santana sighed and smiled, running her fingers through Brittany's hair. Brittany gently pressed Santana back onto the pillows.

Santana delighted in the feeling of Brittany's strong, warm body on top of hers. Just as she was adjusting to having Brittany on top of her, kissing her, Brittany lifted herself back up onto all fours and reached for the vanilla ice cream. She spooned some onto Santana's stomach, licking it off, then kissing Santana again. As Santana tasted the vanilla, she reached around Brittany and unclasped her bra. She tossed the bra onto the floor and returned her fingers to Brittany's hair. Santana ran her tongue between Brittany's lips, wanting to taste as much vanilla and Brittany as she could. She slid her hands down Brittany's sides and pushed her panties down. Brittany sat up, removed the panties, placed the plate of strawberries on the bedside table and lowered herself down onto Santana again. Santana could feel the stickiness where the ice cream had been on her stomach moments ago, now paired with the wetness between Brittany's legs on her thigh. She wrapped her arms around Brittany and reunited their lips. Their arms and legs and lips tangled, mussing sheets and hair. Santana rolled Brittany over, knocking a pillow off the bed. Brittany unwrapped her arms from Santana only long enough to remove Santana's bra and panties, then they returned to their tangled, breathless embrace.

Santana became lost in the taste of Brittany's skin mixed with the ice cream and strawberries, the heat where their skin touched, and the wetness between them. More than anything, Santana felt something in her ribcage, alive and breathing, delighting in Brittany's presence, offering up a song to the night. As the song reached its climax, Santana felt her body peak in harmony with Brittany's. As she released into the ecstasy, she felt Brittany tense and let go too, their breathing in sync, though ragged. Her hands grasped for every part of Brittany she could touch, wanting to extend the sensation of soaring together as long as possible. She felt Brittany's heart pounding with hers. She held on for as long as she could, until finally they were forced back down to earth.

"Mmm… I missed that," murmured Brittany once their breathing had steadied, nuzzling Santana's shoulder.

"Me too," sighed Santana, kissing the top of Brittany's head sleepily.

Santana reached her hand out for Brittany's pinkie, but she couldn't grasp it. She looked at her own hand and saw it slowly dissolving into thin air. Her sleepiness vanished.

"Santana, where are you going?" Brittany said, looking up with an expression of panic on her face.

"I don't know!" Santana gasped. She could no longer feel Brittany's head on her shoulder. She was retreating into a dark tunnel, as if pulled by the waist.

"I miss you…" Brittany became blurry, the blonde of her hair and the blue of her eyes fading into gray.

"What's happening?" Santana cried as darkness closed around her. "Help, Britt!"

"_Where are you, Santana_?" Brittany called from far away.

"I don't know!" Santana yelled, unable to see or feel anything grounding her body.

_If Artie and I were to ever break up… _Brittany's voice echoed from far away.

"I don't want to leave!"

… _and I'm lucky enough that you're still single…_

"Brittany!" Santana's scream echoed in the dark tunnel that she could now tell was sealed.

Santana awoke with a jolt. She gripped the sheets below her, trying to ground herself. Her heart was pounding. It had been so _real_. A few minutes ago, she had been in this exact bed with Brittany. But now there were no sticky spots on the sheets where ice cream had dripped. She looked at the bedside table; there were no bowls of melted ice cream, no plate of strawberries. On the floor her purple bra was next to Elinor's blue one, not Brittany's pink one. She turned her head and saw Elinor's back was rising and falling under a thin sheet. Santana scrambled out of the bed and looked around the room in a panic. She reached for her clothes, but stopped. _No, don't run away, _she told herself. _It was just a dream. You're okay, you're safe here_. Instead of heading for the door, she walked into the kitchen. She stared out the window as she got a glass of water and drank it in big gulps. She took several deep breaths, set down the glass, and walked back to the bedroom. She lay down, eyes untired. She pulled the covers tightly around her. After a moment, the loneliness of the silent room became unbearable. She rolled over and put her arm around Elinor, being careful not to wake her. Santana clenched her stomach and chest tight, trying not to move or make a sound as her tears fell.

Santana didn't know it, but across town, Brittany was lying awake in a dark bedroom too. Only she was alone.


	12. Heart of Glass

**Chapter 12: Heart of Glass**

Unless indicated, chapter titles are not soundtracks.

Time: A few days later

* * *

><p>Elinor turned off the TV and flopped back down onto the floor next to Santana. They were lying in a nest of pillows and blankets and there were handfuls of popcorn scattered about the floor.<p>

"I never get tired of that movie…" Elinor sighed, smiling.

"Eh, I guess it's ok…" Santana muttered. "Kind of sappy, though. The title should have tipped me off. Come on, I mean, '_Love Actually'_? As if a movie could make one bold cinematic statement and we'd all go 'oh, _that's_ what it is! I completely understand now,'" she scoffed, reaching for more popcorn.

"Clearly I should have picked a different movie to watch with Lopez the Love-hater," Elinor poked as she smiled and stuffed a handful of popcorn in her mouth.

"I'm not a love-hater, I just think people get their hopes up about things and it ends up sucking. Relationships are complicated and messy."

"You don't have to tell me, sister. I know _all_ about messy," Elinor lay down on her back and gazed up at the ceiling.

"Even for you?" Santana asked seriously, looking over at Elinor. "But you don't put up with bullshit. We're alike in that way. You're just… nicer about it."

"Love doesn't have a plan or rules or right and wrong. It defies all those things. I never planned to fall in love with the people I did. I just _did_. And it got messy."

Suddenly Elinor seemed very distant, lost in her thoughts. Santana propped herself up on her elbow so she could see Elinor better.

"How?" Santana asked.

"Well, first off, we were seventeen and she was a girl - _is_ a girl. I didn't plan that part. Liking a girl wasn't part of my plan."

Santana felt an odd sensation she couldn't put her finger on. Empathy? Sorrow? Shame?

"What was her name?" Santana asked.

"Amanda," Elinor replied. "Even when _I_ got past the fact that she was a girl, she wasn't there yet, and kept trying to deny that we were really together. I knew she loved me, but she couldn't deal with being something other than what her parents wanted her to be. It just _sucks_ to be different. She decided she'd rather try to be straight than be with me." Elinor sighed. "And that just… hurt more than anything I ever imagined. My whole body hurt for months…"

Santana listened in silence, watching Elinor, not moving a muscle.

"That was the summer I spent lots of time up at the outlook. I remember thinking it was beautiful then, but now when I go back, I realize everything I saw then was gray. I could never see the full beauty of something because all I could see was my own hurt."

Santana felt uncomfortable, but was intrigued by Elinor's story.

Elinor continued: "Well, luckily high school was over, so I didn't have to see Amanda again. I haven't seen her since, actually. We don't talk anymore…"

There was another moment of silence. Santana's stomach twisted.

"Things did get better, though. When I got to college it was like I gradually started to see in color again. I met wonderful people and started going out, started bartending, got interested in sociology, and met other girls who liked girls. I even had a couple fun one-night-stands. Things were just… _good_ again."

"Did you date boys?" Santana asked.

"Yeah, a few. They were nice. But I felt like I had to try too hard with them. So I just went along with things until they fizzled out. And then I met Jordan."

"Who's Jordan?"

"My most recent ex. I felt so safe with her. It was like… the world had so many more possibilities with her. Everything expanded. She had a way of looking at the world with so much wonder and humility… but I guess I got too comfortable or something, because I was completely blindsided by the breakup…" Elinor trailed off.

Santana didn't want to ask any questions. Elinor's story hit too close to home. She just sat in silence for a moment.

"What about you, Santana? I never hear you talk about anyone you dated. I've just told you my whole sob story. Your turn!" Elinor chirped, trying to lighten the mood.

Santana took the cue well and settled back down onto the floor, looking up at the ceiling again, relieved that the tension was broken.

"Well, I'll just stick to the ones that count, because I've had more than my fair share of… yeah, _anyway_, the biggest dating thing I had was with Puck. We were kinda off and on a lot. It was more of an arrangement than a relationship, though. You know what I mean?"

"Oh, totally. Those can be fun," agreed Elinor.

"Yeah, except now he's trying to be all serious with someone who's just… ugh, I can't even describe the atrocity he's going out with. And then there was Finn. We didn't date, though. Once or twice we went out. Mostly it was a stupid, boring sex thing. And then there was Sam, who I started dating to spite Quinn, but he was actually kind of sweet. Kind of dumb, but a nice guy. But I never saw him as more than that… just a 'nice guy.' I guess I wasn't ever really excited about _any_ of them. I liked sleeping with them, but… I dunno. I think high school boys are just lame."

"Maybe," said Elinor. "I wouldn't know, I never dated high school boys because of Amanda."

"Well, I bet there were a lot of boys with broken hearts in Columbus," Santana said with a smile.

"You know it!" laughed Elinor.

They each had a few more bites of popcorn.

"What about girls?" asked Elinor.

"Me?" asked Santana.

"No, the other person in the room," Elinor muttered, rolling her eyes and throwing a piece of popcorn at Santana.

"No, not really."

"Not really, as in what? You never had a relationship with one or dated one?"

"Well, I don't really know. I mean, it was kind of in a gray area."

"What's her name?" Elinor asked.

That felt _way_ too personal to Santana, but how could she refuse an answer to such a simple question?

"Brittany," Santana mumbled. "But looking back, I feel like everything has just been about sex, with guys _and_ with girls; even when it wasn't supposed to be." Santana's chest ached as she remembered the times Brittany had hinted that she wanted something more than just friendship_._ "Maybe if you start sleeping with someone too soon, you never really know what's going on because you're too busy fucking."

Elinor turned her head. "Well… what are _we_?" she asked.

"We're… Santana and Elinor," said Santana, eyes fixed on the ceiling as her stomach clenched. She wanted to avoid this conversation at all costs.

"You know what I'm asking, Santana," Elinor murmured.

There was a moment of silence.

"I don't like labels." Santana grunted.

"Yeah, I know. Sometimes labels suck. But sometimes they're really handy for making sure two people are on the same page. Like… say, whether they were just friends who fuck or dating casually or in a relationship," Elinor said, making her question perfectly clear.

Santana didn't respond.

Elinor continued. "Look, it's not like I'm asking you to get _married_ or even make plans past this summer. I'm just wondering what's up. Because when two lesbians hang out all the time_and_ have lots of sex… usually they're more than just friends."

"I'm not a _lesbian_," Santana snapped.

"But you just told me you weren't that into guys…" Elinor responded. "I thought maybe you and Brittany-"

"That doesn't make me a _les_bian!" Santana interrupted in fury as she sat up. "I just am who I am, and if I fuck a few girls, that doesn't make me anything!" she spat.

"Whoa, sorry… I didn't realize it was such a touchy subject."

"It's only touchy if someone tries to tell me who I am and what I am and who I love!" Santana yelled, temper flaring.

"No one said anything about love! Calm down! Jeez!" Elinor defended.

"No, you know what? This just pisses me off!" Santana stood up, towering over Elinor. "Why do you always have to ruin a good night by talking about _feelings_ and shit? I'm so tired of it. I'm going home. Good _night_." Santana stormed out of Elinor's house, slammed the door and drove home.


	13. That I Would Be Good

**Chapter 13: That I Would Be Good**

Chapter **soundtrack**: "That I Would Be Good" by Alanis Morissette. We all know Santana loves Alanis' angry music, but her mellow stuff is beautiful... Pull this track up on YouTube and listen while you read!

* * *

><p><strong>Time: The next day<strong>

* * *

><p>"Morning, El!" Santana chirped into her phone. "Time to get up! It's already two and we're going hiking and swimming."<p>

"Are you serious?" Elinor balked.

"Of course, it's what we do every Saturday," Santana said, rolling her eyes.

"Do you have _any_ memory of last night?" Elinor said with more than a hint of bite.

"Of course. We weren't _drinking_. We watched that sappy movie you love," Santana evaded.

"And afterwards?"

"Afterwards we talked about feelings and stuff."

"And?"

"… and it's time to go hiking!" Santana sang.

"_No_, Santana. I'm not putting up with this bullshit anymore," Elinor declared. "You freaked the fuck out on me, and now you're acting like nothing happened."

"Well, I don't want to talk about it," Santana dismissed.

"That's not okay!" Elinor insisted. "You need to own your shit. It's not okay to treat me like that."

Santana was not used to being met with such blunt, upfront demands.

"Okay, okay…" she permitted, humoring Elinor. "I got a little mad and wasn't very nice, but you still like me and you still think I'm awesome, and you still want to get out of bed and go hiking with me today."

"No. I don't."

There was dead silence. Santana was stunned.

Elinor sighed. "Look, I have to work tonight and I'm already exhausted. If you still want to hang out, I guess we could see each other tomorrow. But I don't know, Santana... You do this push-pull thing and it's Amanda all over again."

Santana gave in a little at the blunt jab. "Don't say that, El. I mean… you know I _like_ you," she pleaded.

"But the thing is, I _don't_ know. One minute we're making meals for each other, cuddling, watching movies and having amazing sex… and the next you're yelling at me that you're not into girls."

Elinor had a point.

"Well… how can I prove to you that I like you?" Santana asked, furrowing her brow. She didn't like to be told she was wrong, but she didn't want to snap into bitch mode and _guarantee_ Elinor would never talk to her again.

"I don't really know, Santana. That's why I'm not sure we should keep hanging out. I need to know what we are. And if you can't handle having some kind of definition, I think I'm out. Things are messy enough even when they are defined."

Santana's stomach clenched. She didn't know what to say, so she said nothing. Silence pressed into her ears.

Elinor continued, sounding dejected. "Look, you can call me tomorrow if you want."

"Ok, well… have a good night," Santana said bleakly. "Make good tips!" she added, trying to sound positive.

"I always make good tips. I'm the educated bar wench, remember?" Elinor responded to Santana's meager attempt at repair.

"Yes, you are," Santana said with sad grin. "Bye, El."

"Bye, Santana."

Santana hung up and paced the floor of her bedroom. She didn't know how to clean this one up; no one had ever made her do that before. Her usual tactics, denial and avoidance, didn't work; Elinor had a water-tight no-bullshit policy. Santana sighed, pulled out her phone again, and called the last person she ever thought she'd look to for advice. Well, maybe not the _last_ person. But she had deleted Artie's number out of spite months ago.

"Hi, Blaine. It's Santana…"

"Santana! How _are_ you?" Blaine greeted jovially.

Santana thought to herself that his incessant up-beat personality was _exhausting_ and began to regret her decision to call. But maybe she had less patience for him because he was a boy.

"Oh, I'm okay. What's new with you?"

"Not much, not much. Working on some awesome mash-ups for next year, and spending lots of time with Kurt. We're going to Pride in two weeks, which is always exciting. Definitely my favorite weekend of the year."

"Pride?" Santana frowned. She knew what Pride was, but she'd never actually heard of someone she knew going.

"Yeah, it's awesome. The best party in all of Ohio."

"I didn't know Ohio _had_ a Pride. Where is it?"

"In Columbus."

"Oh, cool."

Silence.

"So what's up, Santana?"

"Ugh, I have some stupid drama I don't know how to deal with," she sighed.

"How can I help?" Blaine offered.

Santana hesitated.

"If I told you something, could you keep it to yourself? For now?"

"Of course. That is, unless it involves a plot to steal a set list or something totally illegal…"

"No, no, it's nothing like that. It's just… it's something I don't want to get around to everyone in Lima…"

"Ok, I can handle that."

"So… god, I don't even want to say it," Santana began. There was a pause as Blaine waited for her to speak. "There's this girl," she blurted.

"_Real-_ly…" Blaine drawled.

"Yeah. She's… she's kind of cool. Really cool, actually," Santana shrugged. "We've been hanging out a lot, going to Gray's, cooking, swimming… she's even got me hiking and doing all sorts of weird outdoorsy shit."

"This girl must be something, then," Blaine smiled into the phone.

"She's something, all right…" Santana rolled her eyes.

"So… you like her. More than just a friend thing."

Santana bit her lip. "Yeah…" she admitted.

"Have you told her? I mean, has anything happened?" Blaine asked.

"Oh, we've been sleeping together for a few months now."

"Rock on, Santana," Blaine congratulated. "What's her name?"

"Elinor."

"So what's happening with Elinor that's got you so flustered?" Blaine invited.

"Oh, she's fine. It's just that… sometimes I freak out and become a total bitch," Santana admitted. "Bitchier than usual," she qualified. "Last night was probably the worst."

"What happened?"

"Well, we were talking about relationships and feelings and stuff. That was fine, but then she said something about Britt and me being lesbians and I just- I just _lost_ it."

"Well, she made an assumption that didn't feel right to you."

"I don't know if what she said was right or not. But what _I_ said back was just… probably a little much. I yelled at her and left, slamming the door."

"Ouch…" Blaine winced.

"I mean, maybe she's right. I don't know. How did _you_ know?" Santana asked.

"Everyone's process is different," Blaine generalized, knowing Santana wasn't actually asking about _his_ process, but about how she could be sure in her own self-definition.

"Well, I know she's wrong about Britt. Britt likes boys. Girls too, but she definitely likes boys…" Santana trailed off.

"What about you, Santana?" Blaine asked gently.

"I don't know! How does anyone know?" Santana was flustered. "I know what I like in bed, which is pretty much everything. But that doesn't make me bisexual by default, does it?"

"Maybe not. Most people think that their sexual orientation is about more than just sex. It's about who you want to be around, who you want to have relationships with, and who you feel closest to."

"That's what Miss Holliday said…"

"She's a smart lady."

There was a pause.

"I _still_ don't know how I'm supposed to know," Santana huffed.

"It can be hard to separate what we actually want from what other people tell us we _should_ want. Even for straight people, that's hard. Maybe try thinking about all the encounters you've had with people. Even people you _didn't_ sleep with; who do you feel safest and most connected to? Which relationships were just about sex, and which were something more?"

"That might take awhile…" Santana muttered, thinking about the list she'd have to go through mentally.

"I find it helps to write things down when I'm thinking about them. So maybe try that," Blaine suggested.

"Maybe," Santana dismissed. "But aside from the whole 'label' thing, I still don't know what to do about Elinor. I'm not in _love_ with her," she said, rolling her eyes at the thought. "I just feel bad and I want to fix it so we can still hang out. We have fun together. She's a good person. But I don't know if she would ever forgive me after what I said to her."

"You don't have to be in love to want to make things right. Doing the right thing can be scary. Being honest can be scary. But in the end, it's almost always better."

"How do I tell her I care, though? I mean, aside from apologizing… what do girls want?"

"You're asking the wrong person!" Blaine chuckled. "But I don't think guys and girls are really so different when it comes to romance. People like to _feel_ things rather than hear them._Do_ something for her; something that shows how much you care with more than just words. People are smart – they know words can be empty. So _show_ her."

Santana sighed. She was completely out of her element.

"Thanks, Blaine."

"Anytime, Santana. Chin up, I know you'll figure it out."

"Hey Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm… I'm really sorry I was so mean to Kurt when he was coming out. I don't have a good reason. I'm just… really sorry."

"Thanks, Santana. You should tell him yourself."

"Okay. I will. We should…" Santana was amazed at what she was about to say. "We should all three hang out sometime."

"I'd like that," said Blaine. Santana could hear he was smiling.

"Okay. Cool. Bye." Her words were halting and nervous, realizing just how much she had told him.

"Bye, Santana."

Santana hung up and sighed. She had hoped someone else could figure her out, but she knew it was a silly wish. After a few minutes of pacing, she rummaged through her closet until she found a journal that had been a gift from her cousin Carlos. She had never used it. She sat down at her desk and picked up a pen.


	14. Meet Me By The Water

**Chapter 14: Meet Me by the Water**

Chapter **soundtrack**: "Meet Me By The Water" by Rachael Yamagata. Pull it up on YouTube, it sets the mood for this scene and is just plain beautiful.

**Time: The next night, early August 2011**

* * *

><p>Santana arrived at the reservoir twenty minutes before she had asked Elinor to come. They both loved the reservoir at night. Tonight it was quiet, with no breeze. Santana made sure there were no big pebbles or rocks on the ground at their favorite spot on the bank before laying down a blanket. She lit a hundred little tea light candles in a circle around the blanket and sat in the middle. The scene was set. Elinor was on her way. The only thing that was uncertain was Santana's stomach; she felt it was about to lurch from her throat at any minute. She heard a vintage car motor and tires on the gravel up the bank and thought she might pass out. A car door slammed. Santana took a deep breath. Elinor's shoes made soft crunching sounds as she walked down the bank. The only other noises were the water and the crickets. Elinor slowed her steps as she took in the scene before her. Her face revealed little, which made Santana more nervous.<p>

Santana put on a brave smile. She patted the blanket in front of her, gesturing for Elinor to sit down. Elinor walked over, stepped carefully over the candles and sat down facing Santana, looking between Santana and the candles and the water anxiously.

"Hi," exhaled Santana.

"Hi," said Elinor, still looking around.

"I'm glad you came."

"Well… I figured I should hear you out," said Elinor, with obvious reservation.

"Thanks. I'm not sure I deserve it…" Santana responded, following Elinor's gaze over the water. She took another deep breath and turned back to face Elinor. The candles cast a soft, golden glow over them. Santana was struck by how beautiful Elinor looked in this light, and how sad her eyes looked.

Santana began speaking the words she had gone over in her head twenty times. Her words were choked and breathy: "I asked you here because I want to say- I want to say I'm sorry. I completely freaked out on you the other night… and like _ten_ times before that. It's this same thing I keep doing; I get scared and I become a total bitch and I run."

Elinor was looking at her now, but Santana still couldn't read her expression.

Santana exhaled, trying to relax as she continued: "I don't know how to deal with things that scare me. And you… it's like you have it all figured out. You know how to handle fear. You're showing me that you have to deal with feelings or they don't go away… they just get bigger. And I'm a total beginner when it comes to talking about feelings," Santana admitted. "But I want to try not running or lashing out."

Santana took another deep breath. She looked Elinor straight in the eye, seeing that Elinor was still unsure, but facing that fear. "I have something I want to tell you," Santana murmured. "I know that actions speak louder than words, but I think these words… well, there's nothing I could do instead of saying them. If I could, I would. What I want to say is… I'm a lesbian." Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment before she went on: "I like girls and that's not going to change just because I try to pretend I don't." Elinor's face finally softened with a sad smile.

Santana continued her hushed confession, "I know the fact that I couldn't admit I like girls before made me seem pretty unappealing to you; to any girl, actually. So, the second part is… if you'll have me… I'd like to call you my girlfriend." She was anxious, yet triumphant, exhaling now that her speech was done.

Elinor visibly relaxed. "I'd like that," she said quietly. She leaned forward and gave Santana a hug. "That was really brave," she said into Santana's shoulder. "I'm so proud of you." She pulled back, placing her hands on Santana's shoulders. She kissed Santana gently. Santana smiled into the kiss and put her hands on Elinor's waist. As she pulled away, she kept her eyes closed and exhaled, her whole body relaxing.

"I was afraid I'd chicken out," Santana admitted.

"But you didn't. And I'm really glad," Elinor smiled. She sat back. "I'm liking this whole 'Ring of Fire' thing. It's very… romantic. I'm impressed."

"I guess you're worth impressing," Santana shrugged, looking down at the blanket. She met Elinor's gaze again and smiled. She reached out her hand, hesitantly extending her pinky finger to Elinor. Elinor looked at Santana's outstretched hand.

"Pinkies?" Elinor asked, raising an eyebrow.

Santana shrugged again. It seemed… appropriate.

Elinor took Santana's wrist and opened the palm, placing her hand in Santana's, giving it a soft squeeze. "If you only hold on to someone with your pinky, they can slip away too easily."

Santana felt a shiver run through her.

She refocused her attention on the girl in front of her. "Good to know…" she murmured..

"Well, I don't want you to run off again," Elinor teased with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't want to run off again either," assured Santana. "You make me feel… calm. I mean… I'm saying… I kind of like you," she shrugged, playing casual. "As more than a friend." She gave Elinor a hint of a smile.

"Wow, all this talking about feelings… I'm overwhelmed," Elinor said with a playful smile, leaning in to kiss Santana. "And I kind of like you too. As more than a friend."

Santana smiled and kissed Elinor back. It was short and sweet.

Santana heaved a huge sigh of relief and lay down on the blanket, looking up at the stars. Elinor lay down perpendicular to her, holding her hand and resting her head on Santana's stomach. They lay there quietly, listening to the crickets and the tiny laps of water on the bank. This was a new chapter for Santana. She was lying under the stars with her girlfriend. Her _girlfriend_. Although a small chill rushed through her at the word, she smiled.

"Go to Pride with me," Santana murmured into the dark. It didn't sound like a question.

"Pride?" Elinor asked in surprise, turning her head towards Santana.

"Yeah. My friends Kurt and Blaine are going to the festival in Columbus in two weeks. I thought it would be fun. We can go and spend the weekend just dancing and partying and being super gay together."

"You would do that?" Elinor was still amazed.

"I told you I was working on dealing with it," Santana muttered.

"I'm impressed. Who would have thought… our little baby lez going to her first Pride. I'm so proud!"

"Don't push it, El," Santana grumbled.

Elinor squeezed Santana's hand. "Ok, Lopez. You got yourself a date."


	15. Come Together

**Chapter 15: Come Together**

**August 2011**

* * *

><p>"Make sure it's Veuve Cliquot, not some cheap André crap. Thank you!" Santana said, her voice as threateningly saccharine as possible. She hung up and sauntered back to where Elinor, Kurt and Blaine were eating breakfast on a blanket in the middle of the park.<p>

"What was that about?" Elinor frowned as she took a bite of her bagel.

"Nothing," Santana smirked and plopped down between Elinor and Blaine.

"Are you planning to seduce me, Lopez?" Elinor asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, at least once in the next hour…" Santana retorted, laughing as she leaned toward Elinor, biting her ear playfully.

Blaine chuckled, and spread cream cheese on his bagel.

"Ladies, ladies, keep it PG, there are _kids_ around!" Kurt interrupted.

"Oh, fine, you old lady," Santana jeered, throwing a piece of bagel at him.

"Do _not_ begin a food fight, Santana, this is _Armani_!" Kurt exclaimed.

"Only _you_ would wear Armani to a street festival," Santana muttered with a roll of her eyes.

"Hey, I hear the parade starting!" Blaine interrupted.

Sure enough, they could hear motorcycle engines in the distance. Elinor grabbed Santana's hand, pulled her up and ran, dragging her to the edge of the parade route, leaving Kurt and Blaine to gather up their picnic and blanket.

"I'm not letting you miss one minute of this!" Elinor cried over the roar of the crowd. They clapped their hands with excitement as they strained to see over the other spectators.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Santana, Blaine and Kurt were doubled over a table in a local restaurant laughing.<p>

"I think that guy thought he was a Chippendale!" Elinor sputtered.

"Seriously, I think he danced like that along the whole parade route!" Blaine chortled.

"Um, excuse me, sir," Kurt pretended to address the subject of their laughter, "You are aware that Chippendales at least _begin_ the show with some clothing on, right? And that generally they are about… oh, I'd say, a hundred pounds lighter and _way_ less hairy." The group burst into another fit of laughter.

"And did you see those Tinkerbelle drag queens on scooters? I think they gave you a run for your money in costume design, Kurt!" Santana laughed.

"I take that as a compliment, Santana," Kurt said with a smug smile, dipping a French fry in ketchup with his pinky raised.

"Oh man, I don't think I've ever laughed this hard in my life," Blaine sighed, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes.

"Ok, ok, let's see if we can guess each other's favorite contingent," Elinor suggested. "How about Kurt's?"

"Oh my god, duh, the gay cops," said Santana, rolling her eyes.

"Well played, Lopez," said Kurt.

"Oh really, now…" remarked Blaine, raising an eyebrow. "And _mine_?" he challenged the group.

"The marching bands?" asked Elinor.

"Yes!" Blaine exclaimed. "Anyone know what Santana's favorite part was?" he smiled, barely able to contain a laugh.

"The cheerleaders!" Kurt, Blaine and Elinor cried in unison, bursting into laughter again.

Santana rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile.

"Too easy," said Kurt. "Elinor? I don't know you well enough to guess."

"The families," Elinor said, tilting her head with a sentimental smile. "There are so many adorable little kids with gay and lesbian parents. It makes me want to _cry_ with happiness," she said, taking a bite of her burger.

Blaine caught Santana's eye and mouthed '_She's great!'_

Santana smiled and nodded in agreement. It felt _good_ to be here. Everywhere they went there were people like them: two guys or two girls holding hands, kissing, making faces, laughing, sharing drinks, dancing, shopping, and pushing strollers. Santana had never seen anything like it, and she certainly had never felt more normal. Here, more than anywhere – more than school, Cheerios, and even Glee Club – she felt like she totally belonged.

At Elinor's inquiry, Kurt and Blaine told the story of how they met, became friends, and how they _finally_ got together. Then Santana and Elinor told their story, although it wasn't as cinematic, and definitely didn't involve any singing. As they finished their meal, the laughter and energy died down. They were all tired from a long day.

"Anyone up for swimming after dinner? My parents have a pool in their backyard," Elinor suggested.

"You've _got_ to be kidding," Kurt sneered. "I am _so_ tired. And it would take hours of intense skin care to deal with the effects of the chlorine… don't even get me started," he muttered with a dramatic eye-roll.

"Fine, party pooper," Elinor said, sticking out her tongue.

Blaine chuckled and Kurt elbowed him in the ribs.

Santana saw a tall, redheaded girl walk past their table and couldn't help but give her a subtle once-over. Elinor saw her too and instantly froze, her face draining of all color. Santana glanced at Elinor, then back at the redhead who was rounding the corner. After a moment, Elinor got up from the table.

"Excuse me… I- I'll be right …" she murmured, looking where the redhead had gone. She walked away.

There was a pause.

"Who was _that_?" Blaine asked, his eyebrows arched high.

"I have no idea…" Santana responded, trying to see what Elinor was doing. But Elinor had turned the corner too. Santana snapped back to her present company.

"So Blaine, any plans to leave those losers at Dalton and come sing with a _real_ show choir?" Santana spurred with a glint in her eye.

"I've been trying to convince him he _should_," Kurt groaned. "I think maybe Blaine's afraid he won't get as many solos, since everyone in New Directions is essentially amazing. Even though he has a voice like pure honey… don't you, sweetheart?" he teased, wiping crumbs from the corner of Blaine's mouth.

"Well, he may have a point," Santana played along. "He _wouldn't_ get as many solos. Our glee club is _way_ cooler and individually more talented. We can even pull off a _funk_ number. Bet the Warblers can't do that… especially with the uniforms. It would just look _weird_."

"You make a compelling case, Santana," Blaine chuckled. "We'll see, we'll see... You're right, though, everyone I've met at McKinley is pretty cool," Blaine said as he shook his head and smiled at Kurt, wiping his mouth and setting down his napkin.

"Have you been in touch with any of the Glee kids this summer, Santana?" Kurt lilted.

"Not really," Santana shrugged. "I ran into Puck a few times at Gray's, and Berry came to my house with a petition to save the endangered baby octopus or something… since we quit Cheerios, Quinn and I didn't see each other at cheer camp. So no, I haven't talked to anyone. I'm taking some time off from that drama."

"What about Brittany?" Kurt asked, directly addressing the obvious omission in Santana's explanation.

Santana stomached clenched. "No. Why would I? She's with _Artie_. She made that choice. Now I'm with Elinor." She shrugged, feigning indifference.

Kurt and Blaine exchanged looks.

"You _didn't_ _tell_ her?" Kurt accused Blaine.

"I _just_ found out yesterday!" Blaine countered. "I don't keep up with the McKinley gossip unless I hear it from you!"

Santana's stomach tightened even more. "Tell me what?" she frowned.

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other, silently figuring out who would be the one to speak.

Blaine finally spoke, his voice rife with apology. "They broke up."

Santana felt her blood run cold.

Kurt scoffed. "Like, _two months_ ago. I think everyone saw it coming. She's been really sad for a while now."

Santana's head swirled with questions and possibilities. She was panicked – had she deserted Brittany when Brittany needed her most? Was Brittany angry at her for not knowing? Was there anyone there to wipe Brittany's tears and make her grilled cheese and tomato soup? Santana didn't know what to ask first. "How… how did it happen?" she stammered.

Kurt straightened up in his chair, more than happy to fill Santana in on the gossip. "She broke it off. From what she told me, she got tired of him talking down to her. You know how she's sensitive about being infantilized. Oh, the irony…"

"Is she okay?" Santana demanded.

"I think so. She's been babysitting her little sister and going to summer school. I saw her out with Quinn once. She misses you," Kurt said.

"She does? But… she hasn't called me all summer…" Santana frowned in confusion. It didn't make sense. Hadn't Brittany said that if she and Artie broke up, they could be together? She took a sip of water, hoping it would calm her stomach and focus her thoughts.

Kurt looked nervously at Blaine, unsure how to proceed. "Well… that might be because she heard you had a new… girlfriend."

"She heard _what_?" Santana slammed her glass down on the table.

"You can't expect to be grinding on a girl at Gray's and not have it get around. You know how Lima is."

"Oh, I know people must have seen… but I didn't think they'd immediately draw _that_ conclusion… and for her to hear that from someone else… Oh, god, I can't believe…" Santana put her hand over her eyes.

Elinor walked back to the table, looking a little shaken. "You ok, Santana?" she asked.

Santana sat up straighter and pulled her hand away from her face. "I'm fine. Just, you know, catching up on some… stuff," she bluffed.

"Our dear friend Brittany broke up with her boyfriend," Kurt said with a pleasant, albeit concealing smile.

Santana glared at Kurt and searched for a subject to change to. "Who was that?" she asked, turning to Elinor.

"That was Jordan. I didn't know she was in town," shrugged Elinor, trying to appear casual.

"_Oh,"_ Santana said with more emphasis than she intended, her eyes widening.

As Elinor quickly changed the subject, Santana's phone rang. She picked it up.

"_Everything is ready, Miss Lopez_," said a formal male voice on the other end of the line.

"Thank you," she muttered, and hung up.

"Who was that?" asked Elinor.

"No one," replied Santana, mustering a smile.

Just then, the waiter came by. He had a rainbow pin on his shirt in honor of Pride. "Dessert anyone?" he asked.

Blaine glanced around at the sullen group. "No… I think we'd just like the check. Unless… Kurt?"

Kurt glanced at the two girls. Elinor was pushing French fries around on her plate, and Santana was folding and refolding the corner of her napkin. "No, no, you know what they say… a moment on the lips, forever on the hips…" He let out a lackluster giggle.

"Yeah, we'll take the check," Blaine confirmed. The waiter left and the boys glanced at the girls before looking back at each other, raising their eyebrows.

* * *

><p>Neither girl said a word as they got into Santana's car. Santana put on some background music as she pulled out of the parking lot, hoping Elinor wouldn't notice how preoccupied she was. The air was heavy between them as they drove through the streets of Columbus. With every light and stop sign they passed, Santana had a new question, a new worry about Brittany.<p>

"You missed the turn," Elinor mumbled as she noticed.

"No I didn't," Santana tried to sound playful, but her tone was muted.

"Yeah you did, my parents' house is back that way," Elinor insisted, tapping on the window of the car with her knuckle.

"We're not staying with your parents tonight," Santana stated, her eyes on the road.

"Where are we staying?" Elinor asked, confused.

"You'll see…" Santana was still trying to play up the allure, but finding it difficult.

Santana heard Elinor's phone ring in the center cup holder. She looked down at it. _Incoming call from: Jordan_. Elinor quickly turned off the ringer, sending the call to voicemail.

"You can answer…" Santana offered with a shrug.

"It's okay," said Elinor, looking out the passenger side window. After a moment, she added: "I'm with you."

Santana gripped the steering wheel for reassurance, pressing her foot down on the pedal. This wasn't exactly how she'd envisioned their night.


	16. Easier to Lie

**Chapter 16: Easier To Lie**

Chapter title/ **soundtrack** song: "Easier to Lie" by Aqualung.

* * *

><p>Santana slipped the access card into the hotel room door. "Your room, my lady…" she gestured, mustering a smile.<p>

Everything was just as Santana had requested. There were no lights on, only candles. A bottle of nice champagne sat on ice next to a vase of roses. Two fluffy bathrobes were draped across a chair. The curtains were drawn up, revealing the high-rise view of the city, lights twinkling below. The room wasn't big, but it was clean and elegant. It was exactly as Santana had requested… and yet it seemed incomplete.

Elinor walked inside. She looked back at Santana with wide eyes. "You did this?" she whispered, incredulous.

Santana nodded. "I wanted my first Pride to be special." She closed the door and set down their bags.

"It's amazing… How did you…?" Elinor trailed off as she walked toward the window, looking back over her shoulder at Santana in awe and disbelief.

Santana just forced a grin and followed Elinor to the window. She stood next to her and looked at her face illuminated in the candlelight. Elinor's eyes seemed lost as she looked out at the city. Santana wondered what was going through her mind. She looked down at Elinor's hand before deciding to take it in hers. Elinor squeezed Santana's hand, but her grasp was weak. Santana wished she were able to squeeze back with confidence, but she couldn't, so she leaned into Elinor and kissed her on the cheek, then rested her head on Elinor's shoulder. Elinor patted Santana's arm, but Santana could tell she was distracted.

"What is it?" Santana murmured.

"Nothing. Just dreamy," Elinor sighed.

"Okay," said Santana, not convinced. After a moment Santana lifted her head off Elinor's shoulder and twisted her head to kiss her. Their lips began to dance slowly. Santana drew Elinor around, pulling her closer and adding heat to their kiss.

Elinor broke away from Santana's lips, pushing her away. "I can't do this, Santana," she gasped, darting around the room.

Santana was startled. "Did I do something wrong?" she asked, anxiety rushing in.

"No, no. The room is beautiful, and you went to so much trouble. I don't know _how_ you got all this arranged, considering you're not even old enough to legally rent a room." Elinor gave Santana a sad smile and squeezed her hand again. Santana saw tears start to well up in Elinor's eyes. The anxiety left Santana and she felt genuine concern. This wasn't like Elinor.

"Tell me," Santana urged. She led Elinor over to the bed, gesturing for her to sit next to her on the end.

Elinor took a deep breath. "If I stayed here with you tonight, it wouldn't be fair. Today I realized that being with you was just the next best thing. And you don't deserve that. I can't stay here and drink your champagne and enjoy the candles and roses if I'm wishing you were someone else."

Santana was stunned. Her mind started racing, but not for long. "Jordan…" she whispered, putting pieces together. Elinor nodded, tears spilling over. "Does she want to get back together?" Santana asked.

Elinor shrugged. "I don't know… it doesn't really matter. I can't… I can't do this if I don't have both feet in, you know?"

Santana looked at her own feet and nodded. She was a little hurt, but nothing like when Brittany rejected her. She couldn't help but understand where Elinor was coming from.

Elinor continued. "Don't get me wrong, though. I _do_ like you. You're smart and sexy and you make me laugh. You're everything I _should_ want. It doesn't make sense."

"Things don't always make sense," Santana shrugged.

"I know, but how could I spend all summer with you, cooking and hiking and swimming and talking and dancing and kissing and fucking when I'm in love with someone else? Just saying that makes me sound like a horrible, fucked up person."

Elinor started to cry. As Santana watched Elinor sniffle, she was overcome with compassion, but she didn't know what to do. After a moment, she reached out and rubbed Elinor's back, which seemed to soothe Elinor a bit. When she finally found the words, she said, "I think I understand how someone could do that. The other person becomes two separate people to you: one that's your friend, and one you have sex with."

Elinor nodded. "Compartmentalizing," she said, her voice shaky.

Santana continued. "But that's not what a girlfriend is, and that's not what you want. I don't think that's what _anyone_ wants, really. You're not a horrible, fucked up person," she murmured. "You're a really good person."

Elinor sniffled. "That's exactly it. When you love someone, they get to be one person to you: the most important person. And you weren't that person for me and I felt _awful _about that."

Santana felt something tug in her chest; everything Elinor was saying, she felt too. She wished Elinor could be the person she loved, but she wasn't. "It's okay," Santana shrugged. "You couldn't have known. We had fun," she reassured in a gentle voice. For having just been dumped, she was feeling remarkably light. For the first time in a very long time, someone understood how she felt.

"I just feel bad because I feel like I pressured you to make a commitment… and now I'm just throwing it back in your face," Elinor said between tearful gasps.

"Well, yeah, I guess that does suck a little. But… I'm glad you made me deal with stuff."

"Really?" Elinor asked, in slight disbelief.

"Really," confirmed Santana.

Elinor wiped her eyes and straightened up. "I guess it would be worse if I didn't know there was someone more important to you, too."

_That_ caught Santana off guard. Her eyes darted around the room before giving Elinor a forced puzzled look.

"Brittany," Elinor answered, rolling her eyes as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Santana's jaw dropped and she felt a cold spark dart through her body. She had never even talked to Elinor about Brittany; one time Elinor asked about girls, and Santana had barely even said her name.

"How… _how_ did you know?" Santana sputtered.

"That night a few weeks ago. When I asked about her, you totally freaked out. And then tonight when I came back to the table and Kurt was talking about her, you were frozen."

Santana looked away, biting her lip. "Was I that obvious?" she muttered.

Elinor gave Santana a sad smile. "Probably no more than I was when Jordan walked in."

"Yeah, well…" Santana sighed and looked down as she ran her toes along the pattern of the carpet.

"That's love, I guess," Elinor sighed back. There was a moment of silence.

"I wish we could love each other," Santana murmured, staring at the floor. "It would be easier."

"No kidding," Elinor scoffed. She looked around the room. "But even then… summer was going to end sometime…"

"…and you're going back to Northwestern." Santana finished. "I figured." She rested her head on Elinor's shoulder and let out a sad chuckle. "The fact that we didn't even talk about it and it's a few weeks away says something…"

"Maybe..." said Elinor. "I don't think I could have asked for a better summer, though, all things considered."

"Me either," Santana agreed.

Elinor rested her hand on Santana's as they sat in silence. It was odd to sit like this, so open and vulnerable when they were breaking up. But somehow, Santana had never felt closer to Elinor.

After a moment, Elinor spoke. "Well... I should go. I don't want to drag anything out. Best to leave it peaceful like this."

Santana nodded. "Do you need a ride?" she offered as Elinor stood up.

"No, I'll catch a cab to my parents' place. It's not too far. Thanks, though." Elinor slipped on her shoes and picked up her purse and bag.

Elinor stopped at the door and turned back. "You should call her," she said. "Because I know all this –" she gestured around the room " –was meant for someone really special."

Santana felt her heart clench at the thought of having Brittany there with her. She walked over to the door and gave Elinor a quick hug. "Thank you," she said, squeezing Elinor to her and pulling away. "For everything."

"Anytime, McKinley," said Elinor with a wink.

And with that she left.

Santana turned back toward the room and took stock of everything: the candles, the roses, the champagne, the view of the city... Elinor was right. This was meant for someone special. She took a deep breath and pulled out her phone.

_Britt_, she texted, _can you meet me? I have something important I want to tell you_


	17. All The Things You Are

**Chapter 17: All The Things You Are**

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><p>Santana watched herself in the mirror as she brushed her teeth. It felt wrong to think about kissing Brittany after she had kissed Elinor; Brittany deserved a clean slate. That is, if she got to kiss Brittany at all tonight. Perhaps she was getting ahead of herself. In any case, she wanted to be prepared. She spat into the sink, took a sip of water, and resumed pacing across the room from the window to the door. She had been doing this for almost two hours. The ice in the champagne bucket had melted. The candles were burning low. She looked at her phone. Would Brittany show up, or had she changed her mind somewhere between Lima and Columbus? Santana wouldn't blame her if she had.<p>

With a jolt, Santana heard a soft knock at the door. Her heart stilled as a wave of adrenaline coursed through her, making her stomach churn. She wasn't ready for this. Why did she _invite_ her here? She considered hiding the candles, champagne and roses—they were all too much—but she didn't have time. What if Brittany thought she was being presumptuous? What if Brittany thought she'd lost her mind?

But there was only one direction to go, and that was forward. As soon as she was able to move, she went to the door and opened it.

There stood Brittany in all her radiance. She had a few new freckles on her nose and cheeks, and her hair had been lightened by the sun. She wore a loose white linen dress that really accentuated her summer tan, reminding Santana of just how long it had been since they'd seen each other. But her eyes were the same piercing blue Santana knew so well. She had an adorable hint of a nervous smile on her face.

"Hi," Santana exhaled softly.

"Hi," said Brittany, just as awkwardly.

"You came," Santana stated.

"Of course," said Brittany, tilting her head.

Santana gestured for her to come inside and she floated in behind her.

"Why wouldn't I?" She stood in the middle of the room, looking around at the champagne, roses, and candles with confusion.

"Because I stopped talking to you, and you owe me nothing… least of all driving two hours to see me in some random hotel in Columbus at the drop of a hat…" Santana stammered, looking around the room, hoping Brittany wasn't fazed by the overdone romantic setup.

"Aw, Santana," Brittany lilted, "Of course I would drive two hours to see you. You're my best friend."

Santana felt a wave of guilt wash over her. She took a deep breath. "I _was_ a friend. Not always a very good one, though. There is so much I should have done."

"What do you mean?" asked Brittany. She frowned, creating a tiny wrinkle in her forehead.

Santana stood by the closed door, a large gap separating her and Brittany. She inhaled and walked towards Brittany as she spoke, tentative, but knowing that she had to get this out, and it had to be right. "You needed to talk about things. I'm not very good at that."

There was silence; Brittany staring at her did nothing to quell the beating of her heart.

Santana felt even sicker than before. As she tried to keep from shaking, she wondered if there was any possible way to get out of the mess she had put herself in. But then she realized that was exactly how she had gotten here: by trying to get out of talking about things that were screaming to be talked about.

Santana traced patterns on the carpet with her toes as she figured out where to begin.

"I'm really sorry I didn't call you all summer," Santana finally said.

"Well… it's not like I called either," admitted Brittany, shrugging, her shoulders heavy.

More silence. When she couldn't bear it any longer, Santana finally looked up. "Do you know why I didn't call?" she asked tentatively.

"Because you were mad at me. Maybe still are," Brittany answered, looking Santana in the eye.

Santana softened at the sadness she saw there.

"Oh, Britt, I was never mad at you. I mean… I was upset that things didn't… ya know, work out… But that isn't why I didn't call."

Now it was Brittany's turn to look away as she shrugged ever so slightly.

"I didn't call because I was scared. _Again_," Santana said, rolling her eyes at herself. "You saw something in me that I didn't want to exist; something scared and not in control. I thought if I wasn't around you, it wouldn't exist. So I avoided you." Santana took a few steps toward Brittany. "You are so smart when it comes to feelings and people and I just… I just couldn't admit that you might understand something better than I do." She was standing a few feet from Brittany now, facing her and looking directly into her eyes.

"Not everyone talks about feelings," Brittany shrugged. "That's just how you are, Santana. That's ok."

Santana winced. She was trying so hard, and it didn't seem like Brittany could tell. "I know… but that's part of _you_. And it's one of the best parts of you," she pressed. Planting her feet firm on the carpet, she looked Brittany in the eye, hoping she didn't look as scared as she felt. "I know I could never hope to have you if I couldn't meet that part of you."

Brittany still didn't seem to understand. "Of course you could have me, Santana. It's just… the timing, you know?" she mumbled, looking at her feet, suddenly sad.

There was silence in the room for a moment. Santana didn't know what to do. She had no idea what Brittany was thinking or feeling. Had they been apart so long that she could no longer read her?

Desperate for any information Brittany could give her, Santana tried a different approach: "Kurt told me you broke up with Artie."

Brittany nodded, still looking at her feet.

Santana still didn't know what to say next. Hadn't she had two hours to think about this? Hadn't she been thinking about this in the back of her mind _all summer_?

Of course she knew what she had to do. She just didn't know what order to go in; did she talk about Elinor first? Talk about herself? Her feelings for Brittany and how they hadn't changed? She started with the least scary.

"Well maybe… maybe part of why we didn't work out was timing. But there was something else. Something more important." Santana took a breath, steadying herself as she wondered how to delicately approach her next subject. "I met someone a few months ago…"

Brittany's face fell. Santana saw a flash of regret in her eyes.

"… not someone. A girl. Her name is Elinor." There was an uncomfortable pause as Brittany avoided meeting Santana's eyes..

"I'm… happy for you," Brittany said, the sadness in her voice not matching her words. Her eyes never left the carpet.

Santana didn't want Brittany to think she'd driven two hours to hear that Santana was in love with someone else, so she quickly remedied the situation. "We're not together anymore," she corrected as she bent her head and tried to retrieve Brittany's gaze.

"You're not?" Brittany asked, looking back at Santana.

"No." Santana reassured her. She reached a hand out to clasp Brittany's before pulling it away and wrapping her other hand around it, wringing them together. She was still so unsure. "Because… because we were both still in love with someone else."

Santana saw a flicker of hope return to Brittany's eyes. "You were?" The hopefulness in her voice was so apparent, it made Santana's heart ache.

Santana nodded. "Elinor taught me a lot of things. Things I really needed to learn." She took another step toward Brittany and felt her heart flutter. "She showed me how to treat someone with respect, and how to talk about things that are difficult for me. I'm still not perfect at it. _Obviously_," she rolled her eyes at her own emotional clumsiness. "But I learned that I can't just run away or be a bitch when something is hard or scary."

Brittany seemed to relax a little, nodding in agreement. "Pretending feelings aren't there just makes them bigger," she said with a shrug, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I know that now. I guess I had to learn the hard way… because pretending you didn't exist made things a lot worse," Santana admitted.

Brittany locked eyes with Santana, and Santana could feel the silent questions underneath her burning gaze: _Are you okay? Are _we_ okay?_

Santana wished she could soothe Brittany's nervousness, but tonight was about telling the truth.

"I had nightmares. I drank too much and I cried all the time and I stopped talking to everyone who's important to me. It was… it was so scary," she said, her voice reduced to almost a whisper.

Brittany placed her hand on Santana's arm, giving it a gentle, concerned squeeze. The warmth of Brittany's hand made Santana's heart ache. How could she have ever stayed away for so many months?

"I had no idea," Brittany said. "If I had known-"

"Nothing would have been different," Santana interrupted. "I would have pushed you away again because sometimes… sometimes I'm a huge coward. That's why I'm so glad I met Elinor. Even though I wasn't in _love_ with her, she made me deal with things—with all my feelings… about being…" Santana gulped, hesitating before she could finish, "gay."

Santana steadied herself by placing her hands on Brittany's shoulders. She looked directly into Brittany's eyes and met Brittany's searching gaze. Their eyes locked. Santana needed Brittany to hear every word. She wasn't sure she'd be able to say them twice.

"I'm a… I'm a lesbian, Brittany," Santana said, her voice hushed and so nervous she could barely say the word. "When I told you I loved you, I couldn't say that. But I know it's true and it won't change. It's still scary, and sometimes I really don't want to be gay."

Santana took a moment to breathe and saw Brittany's mouth curve in a sympathetic smile. Brittany was always warm and understanding. She didn't need to say anything to let Santana know it was okay to continue. That simple, sad smile said more than her words ever could.

"But what I don't want even more is to not have you. And I know that if I have _any_ shot at being with you, I need to be able to take whatever comes with you. And maybe it's being slushied every day and being called nasty names and losing some friends," Santana looked away, forlorn at the thought of facing the harsh reality that would surely await them once school started. But standing within inches of what she wanted more than anything else was infinitely more important. She looked back at Brittany, her gaze confident. "But I know now that all those things aren't as bad as not having you."

Brittany's smile could have powered the city. Santana felt her stomach unclench, her whole body softening as tears pushed their way through the hard exterior she used to fight so hard to maintain.

"I spent the whole summer without you, and I never want to do that again," Santana continued, tears welling up. "Because you are the truest, most beautiful person I know. You see everyday things and find some way in which they are miraculous. You feel your feelings, even when they're bad, and you can talk about them. You accept everyone and you accept yourself, just as you are." Santana saw that Brittany, too, was close to tears, which prompted her own to spill over. "You don't think it's bad to like girls or boys or anyone. You just let yourself _be_. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." A single tear slid down Brittany's cheek. "I don't think I could ever fall out of love with everything you are."

Brittany stepped forward and grasped Santana in a tight hug. There were so many things Brittany could say, but she let her embrace say them for her. Santana clung to her, afraid to let go, and let the tears come, allowing all the pent-up emotion of the last few months to melt as she settled into Brittany's embrace.

Brittany cooed in her ear as she rubbed Santana's back, her hand circling and caressing the regret and the worry out of her. After a few minutes, she was able to continue. Raising her head from Brittany's now wet shoulder, she steadied herself and asked the question that she'd wanted, and feared, to ask since that day at the lockers all those months ago.

"Britt…" she gulped away the last of the sobs from her throat, "if I promise to keep trying to talk about feelings and to keep being brave and admit that I like- that I _love_- girls…" she sucked air into her vice-tight lungs before continuing, "would you ever consider being with me?"

Brittany's response was a kiss, firmly placed on Santana's lips. Santana felt the energy of that kiss stream out from between them, through the walls of the hotel, over all the buildings and houses of Columbus. The sudden sensation of their place at the center of the universe made Santana's knees buckle under her. Brittany clutched her, holding Santana in place. As soon as Santana regained the ability to stand, she grasped Brittany's waist. She felt the entire day's worth of worry starting to drain from her as she relaxed into Brittany's arms. They kissed softly for a few moments, and when Brittany pulled her lips away, Santana looked up at her through her full, still wet, lashes.

"Is that a maybe?" Santana joked, trying to ease her anxiety.

"That's a yes," Brittany giggled. "A big, proud yes."

Santana put her arms around Brittany's neck and smothered her in a long, passionate kiss. She couldn't stop smiling. As she broke away to catch her breath, Brittany extended her pinky finger to Santana. Santana smiled at the familiar gesture but shook her head. She took Brittany's wrist in her hands, flattening the palm and placing her whole hand into Brittany's, intertwining their fingers. "If you hold on to someone with only your pinky, they slip away too easily. I'm not letting you get away again."

Brittany grinned. "I'm not going anywhere, Santana. This-" she lifted their clasped hands and placed them over their hearts "- is where I belong."


	18. All of Me

**Chapter 18: All Of Me**

**A/N: Special thanks to terriblemuriel and FrogsrCool for their help with editing this chapter :)**

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><p>The few candles that still burned in the room flickered around them as Santana and Brittany stood kissing in the middle of the room. After all the agony, loneliness, and anxiety of the summer, this felt jarringly simple and good, like taking off clothing that was too tight. Santana wanted to savor every touch, every kiss, every sigh. Their tongues danced together as they embraced, hands roaming over the planes of their backs and shoulders. Holding Brittany so close, Santana could hardly believe she wasn't dreaming.<p>

She pulled away to make sure this was real and to look into Brittany's eyes for a moment. They smiled at each other, nervous and giddy. Santana was cautious; moving too quickly might give Brittany the wrong idea. So she kept kissing her, feeling the softness of Brittany's lips brush against her own, warming her mouth, tingling through her skin all the way down to her center.

As if she knew Santana was waiting for her lead, Brittany slid her hand from Santana's back around to cup Santana's breast. Santana's eyebrows lifted through their kiss, surprised and excited and scared.

"We don't have to do anything, B," Santana whispered. She wanted to make sure Brittany knew that she wasn't expecting to have sex right away. "I could stay up all night just talking and it would still be the best night of my life." And she really meant it; if Brittany wasn't ready to have sex – with feelings – Santana didn't want to either. She had gone all summer without Brittany's touch, and she could go that long again if it meant she got to keep the settled, warm feeling in her chest. In fact, having sex right away seemed scary. She already felt stripped bare.

Brittany pulled Santana closer. "I want to," she whispered, her eyes fixed on Santana's lips.

Santana took a deep breath and felt her heart beat against her ribs. She thought about how they had always gone about having sex; eyes closed, lights off when possible, and wordless except for curses of pleasure. She didn't want that now. She wanted to hold Brittany in her hands, as if cupping something fragile like a baby bird.

But her hands were shaky and she felt more fragile than Brittany seemed. Brittany seemed quietly excited and warm. It soothed Santana. Taking another breath, she knew that she was the bird, not Brittany. And she realized Brittany knew that too.

"Okay," she whispered. Her heart thudded louder as she spoke. This was scarier than any performance they'd done in Glee club. This was scary because for the first time, this wasn't a performance. This was real.

Pausing for a moment to look at Brittany's eyes, Santana leaned back in and kissed her way up Brittany's neck, eventually finding her way to Brittany's lips. She lowered her hands and began to gather Brittany's dress in her clammy fists, signaling that she was going to try to hold Brittany too. She wanted this to be slow, intentional and gentle. She pulled away just enough to look into Brittany's eyes, asking for permission. Brittany nodded, raising her arms, her face solemn. Santana lifted the light cotton, watching her hands as they moved past Brittany's hips, belly button, breasts, collarbone, and up over Brittany's head. She dropped the dress on the ground. While she could have easily let her eyes roam over Brittany's figure, what captivated her most right now were Brittany's eyes. They were dry, yet seemed to pool with joy. Looking into those happy, peaceful eyes, Santana felt her knees weaken.

"You're so beautiful," Santana whispered.

She pressed herself closer, sinking her head onto Brittany's shoulder and reveling in the warmth of Brittany's skin through her own dress. She heard Brittany exhale. Santana pulled back enough to continue kissing her with long, slow kisses, meant to be savored. Minutes passed before she pulled her lips away, resting her forehead against Brittany's, feeling their breath between them. With her eyes still closed, she willed herself to commit everything to memory: the way Brittany looked, the way she smelled, the way her kisses tasted. But most of all, she wanted to remember how she _felt_. She had everything she could ever want, right there, holding her, kissing her.

And yet despite having everything she wanted, she was terrified. Now that she had Brittany, she knew exactly how much she had to lose. The thought of feeling that hurt and pain again made her shudder and almost pull away. Yet she knew if she couldn't bare the scariest, most terrified parts of herself, she would be pushing Brittany away again. And Brittany saw her scared, unsure parts. She always had. There was no way to feel safe, and yet nowhere safer.

Santana felt tears welling up, so she kissed Brittany deeply before settling her head back on her shoulder, letting a single tear trickle down her cheeks.

"I love you," Brittany whispered.

Santana was stunned and overjoyed as the words echoed through the room. It was exactly what she felt, exactly what she had been trying to capture by committing every sensation to memory. Love. Brittany had known, and by some miracle, felt the same way. She pulled her head back to look Brittany in the eye as she replied.

"I love you too," Santana echoed in amazement, her chest full to bursting.

She let out a gasping smile before she leaned forward and kissed Brittany, still slow, but with more passion. Her lips lingered on Brittany's as if trying to ink the words in so they would be there every time she kissed her. She wanted to kiss Brittany hundreds of times every day. For the rest of her life.

She settled her head on Brittany's shoulder again and just stood there for a few minutes, pressed together. She could feel Brittany's heartbeat, steady and warm against her own as it fluttered. She felt that feeling she had dreamt about weeks before: the spiritual connection of truly being held, known and cherished. The longer she stood there, the calmer she felt, and the more her heart warmed and settled to the beat of Brittany's.

And then other parts of her began to warm too. Heat seeped down through her chest into her belly and swirled through her hips. She kissed her way down Brittany's neck and back up to her earlobe, taking it into her mouth with a gentle bite. She felt Brittany's breath hitch as she ran her tongue along the lobe. After a moment Brittany's hands slid down over Santana's backside, pausing for a light squeeze before moving to the hem of her dress. Santana's pulse quickened, anticipating Brittany's next move.

Slowly, Brittany pulled the stretchy material up until the dress was bunched around Santana's waist. She ran her hands over Santana's hips as she squatted and placed her lips on Santana's thigh. She slowly kissed her way up Santana's leg and Santana felt her breath catch in her throat. Brittany's mouth reached her hipbone and paused to trace several kisses along the lace of Santana's panties. Santana closed her eyes and exhaled, surrendering to whatever would come. Brittany moved her hands back to the fabric of the dress and continued pushing up, following it with her mouth. With every touch, Santana felt Brittany becoming closer to her.

Brittany pulled the dress all the way off and dropped it on the floor next to her own. As Santana's arms came back down, Brittany caught her wrist and kissed from the crook of her elbow to her collarbone to her neck. Santana leaned into the crevice of Brittany's neck and exhaled, moistening the skin there. She had never taken lovemaking – that's what this was, wasn't it? – this slow or seriously. This was scary. It felt like moving in slow motion and she wasn't sure she could do that and not crack open, letting Brittany see all her messy thoughts and feelings.

Brittany sat down on the edge of the bed and gently pulled Santana toward her. In any other situation, Santana would have jumped on her, straddling her, and smothering her with hot, blind kisses that weren't supposed to mean anything, even if they did. But now Santana didn't know what to do. She couldn't rush forward or shut her eyes or pretend being with Brittany was just like being with anyone else. She couldn't struggle for dominance because this was about surrendering. She had to show Brittany that everything was different now and there was no way she could go back. She moved cautiously forward, feeling as though she hung in midair, waiting for Brittany to pull her down to the ground.

Brittany placed her hand flat against Santana's abdomen. She ran it up between Santana's breasts to her neck, seeming to study every inch of skin until she tangled her fingers in Santana's hair. Brittany ran her other hand up Santana's stomach, over her covered breast and up to her collarbone. She sat there for several moments, watching herself run her hands over Santana's body. At last she leaned forward and placed kisses from Santana's belly button up to her collarbone. With her other hand, she reached behind Santana and unclasped her bra, sliding it down Santana's arms and onto the floor.

Although Santana had been naked in front of Brittany many times before, as her bra slid off, it felt like the first time. The room felt cold and her legs felt shaky. As if reading her mind, Brittany placed a hand over Santana's heart and looked into her eyes. Santana was sure Brittany could feel her heart thudding, approaching lightning-quick beats, excited and scared and yearning to be pressed as close to Brittany's as possible. If they were pressed together maybe Santana would feel less afraid. Maybe she wouldn't feel precariously alive, trembling as she sat in danger of falling and shattering.

Brittany gave Santana a timid smile when she saw the apprehension on Santana's face and felt Santana's heartbeat. This was new for them. They had given up any hope of just going through the motions of having sex, and Santana knew they were approaching something much more intimate and completely foreign. This wasn't about making Brittany writhe with pleasure or quenching some physical thirst. This was about showing her emptiness and hoping to be filled. She didn't know if she'd be able to leave her guard down if it was going to be like this the whole time. Her heart would exhaust itself and her gut would never be able to untie its knots and she would have to curl up in a ball for days to make her chest stop aching.

She knew she could stop if she wanted to. Either of them could. But it was the same feeling of walking down a dark hallway towards a door, hearing her own footsteps echo around her, knowing that no matter how slow she walked, even if she stopped for a minute or a day or a year, she would have to open the door eventually. So she kept moving, feeling her heart beat ever louder in her chest.

Brittany's hand slid down from Santana's heart to cup her breast and Santana shuddered. Brittany's hand was gentle as she watched the way Santana's breast looked as she fondled it, pinching the nipple. Santana tilted forward, trying to communicate how hard she was trying to not detach this time. Brittany responded by softly caressing the other breast, leaning forward until her mouth was hovering half an inch from the nipple. She took in a quick, sharp breath before taking it into her mouth, the combination of cold air and warm lips sending a shiver down her spine. She felt a rush of wetness coat her center.

Santana closed her eyes to steady herself as her body surged. Brittany's touch felt so much better than she remembered. But she had never told Brittany how wonderful being with her felt. She wanted Brittany to know.

"That feels so good, Britt," she whispered.

She had hardly finished her sentence when Brittany's tongue flicked over her nipple. Santana moaned and put her hand on the back of Brittany's head, encouraging her. Brittany flicked her tongue again.

Santana started to relax into how good her body felt when she had time to savor each touch. So far making love was slower and gentler and so much sweeter. She felt connected and supported, as if Brittany would catch her if she toppled over. She hummed as Brittany flicked her tongue over her nipple several times before beginning to suck. Brittany built up suction gradually, and Santana tensed as the pressure grew. She started to tremble just as Brittany released her hold. Brittany moved to the other breast, taking the nipple into her mouth in the same fashion while massaging the recently moistened one with her hand, alternating between kneading Santana's breast and gently rolling the nipple between her fingers. Santana felt herself grow wetter and warmer and she wanted Brittany to touch her right away.

When Brittany released her hold on Santana's nipple, Santana squatted down so she was eye-level with Brittany. She kissed her ravenously, hands reaching for the back of Brittany's bra. Slipping back into her old way of doing things, she unclasped the bra, pulled it off Brittany's shoulders and flung it to the side before surging forward. She felt Brittany's mouth stiffen and realized she was doing it all wrong. Pulling back and looking into Brittany's eyes, she remembered she wanted to savor every moment. She froze, giving Brittany a wincing, apologetic smile.

Brittany put her hand on Santana's cheek. "It's okay," she whispered.

Taking a breath for courage, Santana nodded. She wanted to believe she wouldn't break if she let Brittany see her unfrozen, eyes open and naked. She slowed down and cupped Brittany's face in her hands. She could see Brittany knew how hard she was trying. She studied the blue-grey eyes, a hint of joyous tears welling up in her own. She wanted tonight to be everything she loved about Brittany: open, loving, and gentle. Brittany gazed back at her and Santana had never felt so trusted in her life.

Overcome, she whispered, "I love you, Britt."

"I love you too, Santana."

At the same time, they both leaned forward, lips meeting in a slow, deliberate kiss. Santana felt shivers as she forced her lips to move in slow motion, savoring the way Brittany's fingers stuck to her cheek and slid over her jaw to hold the back of her head. Gradually, their tongues met and their energy expanded, wanting more. Never parting lips, Santana leaned forward onto the bed, scooting Brittany up so her head could rest on the pillows. Santana crawled over her, lowering her torso onto Brittany's, feeling the heat where their bodies touched. Although Brittany's body was firm and strong, she was soft beneath Santana. Santana felt all the relief of sinking into a hot bath and all the excitement of knowing she would get to touch Brittany soon. And she would really touch her, not just try to get her off.

Their breasts, crushed together, felt velvety smooth and warm. Santana was aroused, but she didn't feel any of the desperation she usually felt during foreplay. She wanted to explore Brittany as she had never wanted to explore anyone before. Every little curve and freckle and dimple seemed of utmost importance. She had time to study each one now. Being with Brittany was limitless. She ran her hand down Brittany's side beneath her, noting how the curve felt. She vowed to make every movement a gesture and token of the love and respect she had for Brittany.

Brittany slid her hands around Santana's hips and tucked her fingers into the lace of Santana's panties. Santana shuddered as Brittany gently pushed them down an inch or two, breaking their kiss to smile up at her. Santana shivered as she nodded and Brittany rolled the panties down her hips. Santana moved her legs so they could be discarded. When they were, she sat up and slowly lowered herself onto Brittany's thigh. She looked directly into Brittany's eyes as she took in the sensation of her wet center meeting Brittany's firm, warm skin. She felt more fragile than she had in a long time, but it was very different than having a broken heart; now her heart felt like it was filled to the brim and she had to be careful nothing spilled out.

She felt an inner vibration at the contact, as if Brittany were a socket she had been plugged into. She tried to keep her breathing steady as she started rocking subtly. She leaned down and began kissing and licking Brittany's nipples, which seemed the most exquisite shade of pink in the muted light. She felt Brittany's chest begin to rise and fall. As she rocked her hips back and forth in sync with Brittany's breathing, she felt a little less fragile.

Santana slid one hand down the side of Brittany's panties, pushing them down. Brittany lifted her hips as much as she could and slowly pushed the other side down. Santana lifted herself off Brittany's thigh so she could remove Brittany's underwear and then lay back down on top of Brittany, only to roll off onto her side. As she did, she gently coaxed Brittany's hip along with her, so she too was on her side. Santana had no desire to overpower Brittany; lying next to each other, they were equals. This way if she was unsure what to do or how to stay in the moment, Brittany could help her. Santana entangled her legs with Brittany's. Pressed up against each other, Santana felt like her heart and her body had never been so at peace with each other.

Together they moved and rocked in a slow, syrupy rhythm. Hands ran through hair, over skin, between bodies, and across backs as they were consumed with each other. The outside world was lost to Santana as she discovered what each curve and crevice felt like now that she knew they belonged to the person she loved.

Santana's hand slid between their bodies, running between their belly buttons, down over Brittany's lower abdomen. She stopped there, unsure if she was moving too quickly. She was about to pull out of their kiss to ask with her eyes when she felt Brittany's fingers on her wrist and felt Brittany whimper into her mouth. Brittany urged her hand down, sucking at Santana's lip as she did. Santana's heart sped up as she slid her fingers down into Brittany's wetness.

She gasped, breaking their kiss. Brittany was soft and warm and deliciously wet, and even though Santana had touched her so many times, she couldn't remember Brittany every feeling _this_ good. She began to move her fingers, feeling Brittany's body roll into hers.

Brittany's little gasps and high-pitched moans were the most erotic sounds Santana had ever heard; she had never been so aroused by pleasing someone else. She was aching from it. After a few minutes of exploring Brittany's sex, Santana ran her coated fingers back up to the cleft of Brittany's center and started tracing circles around Brittany's clit. Brittany closed her eyes as her breathing became heavier. Santana loved the feeling of Brittany's breath on her face. She watched her, reveling in the way Brittany's mouth moved unconsciously with any slight shift in sensation, the way her brows knit together and relaxed as her tension ebbed and flowed. Brittany's eyebrows went up and her mouth formed a circle as Santana slid two fingers inside Brittany. It was hot and welcoming and even better than Santana remembered. Touching Brittany was the most heavenly thing she had ever felt. For a moment, she forgot to breathe. Perhaps if she didn't breathe, she could stay frozen in time like this forever. Maybe she would feel completely enveloped and trusted and whole for the rest of her life.

Santana extended the natural rocking rhythm of their bodies into her hand, feeling Brittany's hips pressing into her hand as they rocked, side by side. She kept her hand relaxed and allowed her fingers to naturally curl up into Brittany. She felt pressure building up around her fingers, and as she gently pressed her thumb into Brittany's clit, drawing circles as best she could, the pressure dramatically increased. Santana broke their natural rhythm and pumped her fingers in and out of Brittany until she felt Brittany grip her fingers like a vice. Pressing their foreheads together and digging her fingers into Santana's shoulder, Brittany's whole body curled into Santana. Santana curved around her, sheltering her as she came undone. Brittany's breath stopped for several moments, then returned in desperate gasps. Santana pumped her fingers a few more times, eliciting a groan from Brittany as her muscles trapped Santana's fingers again, for longer this time.

When they finally released, Brittany's heavy breathing began to slow, and she opened her eyes, shining across the pillow at Santana. She smiled a slow, lazy smile, which Santana returned. They gazed at each other until their breathing steadied. Santana realized she had never watched Brittany come down before. She looked so radiant, Santana felt her throat close a little and closed her eyes for a second to draw in a breath and steady herself. She felt her chest swell, knowing she had been trusted with such a precious thing as Brittany's heart. It felt so good that it ached and her shoulders wanted to collapse around her chest to protect that feeling. She vowed to always watch Brittany come down from now on. Realizing she would get to see it again made her feel like she was soaring.

She gently withdrew her fingers, making Brittany shiver. Looking into Brittany's eyes, she brought her hand up to her mouth. She had never done this before; it would have been too intimate. That was something only lovers did; definitely not fuckbuddies. She wanted Brittany to see and know that things were different now. She watched Brittany's mouth spread in an amazed, grateful smile as Santana took her fingers into her mouth, sucking them clean. She did it slowly; she didn't mean for it to be purely erotic. As her tongue rolled over her fingers, she found she loved Brittany's taste; it was coppery, bright and warm. When she was done, she drew her fingers our out of her mouth and placed her arm around Brittany, pulling her closer and looking her in the eyes. Brittany looked at Santana for a moment and then kissed her fiercely. Santana knew she could taste herself as their tongues swirled together because she could taste the wetness of Brittany's mouth. Feeling them mix together made her dizzy with arousal.

Brittany pressed her shoulder against Santana's, pushing her onto her back with her head propped up on pillows. Brittany rolled on top of Santana, accelerating and never breaking their kiss. Pretty soon Santana couldn't tell the difference between the taste in Brittany's mouth and her own. It was sheer bliss; she closed her eyes and reveled in every touch. Brittany's hands palmed her breasts and Brittany's center grazed her leg in a slow, rocking rhythm. Although this was slower than they'd ever gone before, Santana was overwhelmed. Everything seemed to be happening at once. Her body felt like an echo cave, each sensation reverberating off every part of her body, making her feel she would collapse or go deaf.

Through the cacophony, Santana felt soft hair sliding down her stomach and looked down to see the top of Brittany's head as she kissed her way towards Santana's most private place. She felt a spark of fear zip through her as she tensed and let out a little squeak.

Brittany looked up. "Is this okay?" she asked.

Santana wanted to shake her head _no_. She would have felt too open and raw. But that was the point of tonight; even if she didn't let Brittany's mouth near her center, she would be open and vulnerable. So she wiggled the fingers of her left hand that was lying by her side. Brittany reached for it, holding it firmly.

"We don't have to," Brittany assured. She crawled halfway back up Santana's torso, lying flush against her.

Santana remembered the look on Brittany's face when she had let go for Santana. She remembered the uncertainty in Brittany's face when she had knocked on the door earlier, unsure what she would find. Knowing that Brittany had put faith, however undeserved, in her tonight, Santana knew she had to do the same. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.

"I want you to," Santana said, her voice halting. "It's just… I feel very… naked."

Brittany looked up at her, her expression earnest as she nodded. "You're safe with me," she whispered, squeezing Santana's hand.

Santana took a breath. Sex with Brittany was already scary; she liked it so much she thought it could destroy her. But she had made a promise to Brittany to be brave. So she bit her lip and nodded her consent, squeezing Brittany's hand back.

Brittany smiled and began kissing down Santana's stomach again, locking eye contact. Santana's pulse quickened. Brittany kissed all around her hips and up and down the creases where her legs met her body. She kissed down Santana's thighs, exploring the soft, pale flesh on the innermost part of her thighs as much as she could without breaking eye contact. With her free hand, she coaxed Santana's right leg outward, allowing more space between her legs. She nestled her body down so she was lying on her stomach, all the while meeting Santana's gaze. With a loving look, Brittany lowered her mouth to Santana's center. She grazed Santana with her soft, flattened tongue.

Santana's body relaxed and contracted at the same time. She felt an intense, warm shiver go up her torso and down her legs, connecting to every part of her body. Never had she felt so open, so vulnerable and naked; and at the same time, never had she felt so connected, so protected, and so loved. She watched Brittany and exhaled, surprised at how loud her breath was. Brittany ran her tongue over Santana's clit again, this time more firmly. Santana gasped for air, smiling. She was relieved; it felt more good than scary. Brittany smiled back. This was the most intimate thing Santana had ever done. Though other people may have touched her and made her feel good, no one had ever looked her in the eye, promising to hold her and keep her safe. Brittany held her hand firmly as she began a slow, steady rhythm with her tongue. Just as Santana adjusted to the feeling of Brittany's soft tongue on her clit, Brittany attached her lips around it, adding new intensity. Santana felt her stomach whoosh as her fear drained and her body flushed. Santana drew her right knee slightly up, opening herself up wider. The more open she was, the better it felt.

"Oh God, Britt…" Santana moaned, eyes still locked with Brittany's. "That's… that's the most amazing..." She panted, unable to finish her thought.

Brittany hummed a response, her lips twitching up in a smile but never leaving Santana. The humming sent vibrations through Santana, causing her breathing to pick up pace and her free hand to grip the sheets. Santana felt pulled into an undertow as Brittany's tongue began making wider strokes, and her lips detached as she moved lower, exploring more of Santana's sex. The languid licks gave Santana a sense of expansion; it was as if she had only experienced a few of the million sensations the world had to offer, and was just now beginning to understand that. Or maybe she had only experienced a few of the sensations _Brittany_ had to offer.

Brittany removed her lips from Santana, raising her head a few inches. "You taste like heaven," she whispered. Santana grinned and opened her legs wider. She couldn't get enough.

Their eye contact was unshakable. As Brittany lowered her mouth to continue exploring Santana with her tongue, Santana felt her whole body become warm. Maintaining their steady gaze, her anxious tension had completely dissolved, to be replaced by another tension in her gut; but this tension was warm and welcome.

With their hands still clasped at Santana's hip, Santana saw Brittany move her other hand towards her center. Brittany brought her mouth up to Santana's clit again, watching Santana's expression as she gently applied light suction. It felt so good, Santana wanted to close her eyes, but she just couldn't. She was locked onto Brittany.

Brittany moved her hand so one finger was positioned at Santana's opening. Santana groaned as she slid it inside, adding to the warm tension in her gut. She gave Brittany's hand a squeeze as she continued to climb. Brittany began moving her finger in and out, sliding her tongue across Santana's clit. The gentle pace was excruciating and wonderful. As Brittany picked up speed, so did Santana's breathing. Santana couldn't tear her eyes away. She had an uncontrollable, desperate urge to be tied as closely and permanently to Brittany as possible.

Brittany added another finger, picking up the pace and applying more pressure to Santana's clit. Brittany's steady rhythm continued to fuel the warm tension in Santana's gut, until she was almost overwhelmed with it. Her moans became even more desperate as her chest rose and fell rapidly.

"Oh god, Britt!" Santana squeaked, trying to keep her eyes open as she felt herself beginning to seize from head to toe. Brittany watched Santana's expression as she curled her fingers and pushed her tongue against Santana's clit. Santana began to shake, still looking down at the blonde between her legs. Brittany pressed up with her curled fingers and down with her tongue. Santana's inner walls contracted powerfully along with the rest of her body. Her breath caught in her throat as she involuntarily lifted her torso off the bed a few inches, never breaking eye contact. Santana felt herself grip Brittany's fingers in vice-like throbs and pin Brittany's head between her legs as she gasped for a breath. As soon as her lungs were filled, she returned to holding it as she rode out her climax. Brittany flicked her tongue a few more times across Santana's clit and Santana felt her whole body clench harder to every part of Brittany she could touch. They stayed there, suspended outside time and space. Brittany watched Santana writhe until her muscles finally released.

Santana fell back onto the pillows, exhaustion forcing her to break eye contact and close her eyes as she pulled urgently at Brittany's hand until Brittany got the hint and crawled up the bed. With her left hand still inside Santana, Brittany let go of their handclasp in her right, placing her arm above Santana's head. Santana lifted her head so Brittany could put her arm under her neck. Once Brittany had her arm around the exhausted girl, she pulled Santana close so they were lying on their sides with Santana's head curled under Brittany's chin. Santana's breathing was still heavy, and small waves of her release still shimmered through her. Santana was still pulsing around Brittany's fingers and in a slowly dying rhythm as she curled into Brittany's chest. As the thudding of her heart began to die down, Santana's lips spread in a lazy smile. She had done it. She opened her eyes, looking up to find Brittany gazing back at her, her expression soft but serious.

"That was so beautiful, Santana," Brittany whispered.

Santana nodded, still trying to catch her breath. When she felt Brittany begin to remove her fingers, she held Brittany's wrist, not wanting her to pull her hand away just yet. She wanted to savor every feeling Brittany had given her. A few more pulses shivered inside her until she felt intense warmth sweep over her body and she let go of Brittany's wrist. Brittany slowly removed her fingers and wrapped her arm around Santana, pulling her into her neck.

"I love you so much," Santana whispered into Brittany's collarbone. She felt her throat tighten around the words, her eyes pooling with overwhelmed tears.

Brittany held her tighter, listening to Santana's breathing slow. "I love you, too."

A tear dropped onto Brittany's chest.

"Was that okay?" Brittany asked with gentle concern.

Santana pulled her head back, revealing fresh tear tracks down her cheeks. For a girl who had never had sex with feelings before, it felt good to cry, almost like she was supposed to. She nodded and gave Brittany a watery smile. Brittany ran her thumb over Santana's cheek, wiping the tear tracks toward Santana's ear.

"I wish that had been our first time," Santana said, her voice weak and wavering with her tears.

Brittany nodded, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes too. "It was," she said. "It was the one that counted."

Santana pressed her face into Brittany's chest again and let a few more tears slide out, not trying to stop them. Brittany kissed the top of her head and wrapped her even closer.

The champagne was unopened; the candles had burnt out; neither of them had looked at the view all night. And yet, the night was complete and had been the perfect expression of their love. They drifted off to a blissful sleep, tangled in each other's arms and legs, never wanting to move again.


	19. Today The Sun's On Us

**Today The Sun's On Us**

Santana drifted out of sleep into the morning, piecing together what she felt. Her back was warm from sunlight. The bed was soft as a cloud. There were arms around her. Her lips were being kissed by… she opened her eyes… _Brittany_. Brittany pulled her close, warming her bare front more than the sun warmed her back.

When Brittany sensed that Santana was awake, she broke away to smile at her.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Brittany murmured.

Santana smiled, stretching her arms only to hold Brittany closer.

"Mmm… _best_ morning…" Santana mumbled, kissing Brittany's neck.

Brittany grinned into Santana's hair as Santana placed sleepy kisses over her neck and jaw, as if to test whether Brittany was really there. As she kissed down Brittany's front, she replayed moments of the night before; Brittany's face when she opened the door, watching Brittany's tears mirror her own, and watching Brittany let go, trusting Santana to hold her.

After a moment, Santana heard Brittany's stomach growl. "Are you hungry?" she asked, concerned.

Brittany nodded.

"Let's get room service," Santana suggested.

Brittany nodded again. "Anything to not have to leave this bed," she said with a smile.

Santana smiled back, sat up and reached for her phone. As she did so, she looked back at Brittany, lying with only a sheet draped across her lap. Her hair was shining in the sunlight and spilling over her shoulders onto the pillows over her bare breasts.

"God, you're beautiful," Santana remarked, pausing for a moment with her phone raised halfway to her ear.

Brittany gave her a sheepish smile.

Santana smiled back and flipped through her contacts and put the phone to her ear. "Hey, it's me. Can you send up breakfast? I don't care, just whatever." She pulled the phone away for a minute and looked at Brittany. "Anything special you want?" she whispered.

"Chocolate chip pancakes," Brittany said with a little laugh, taking Santana's hand and playing with her fingers against the sheet.

"Can you make sure there's some chocolate chip pancakes?" Santana said back into the phone as she let her hand lay limp on the sheets as Brittany played with it. "Okay. Thanks. Bye."

Brittany gave Santana a curious frown. "You have the room service number in your phone?" she asked.

"No, just my cousin Carlos'," Santana said with a smug smile.

"Oh, your cousin manages _this_ hotel?" Brittany asked.

"How else would a seventeen-year-old be able to rent a room during Pride?" Santana said, her grin widening.

"Well, most seventeen-year-olds couldn't, but most seventeen-year-olds aren't Santana Lopez," Brittany smiled.

"You got that right," Santana smirked.

"It's a good thing, too, because I would be completely overwhelmed if there was more than one of you."

"Oh yeah?" Santana laughed, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Too much hotness." Brittany put her hands on her head and pulled them away dramatically, making an exploding noise.

Santana laughed and lay back down next to Brittany on her side. She stared into those blue eyes as the room grew quiet. Santana hadn't felt this peaceful in years.

"I'm so glad you're here," Santana murmured.

"Me too," Brittany whispered, turning onto her side to face Santana. "It was a long summer."

"I want to hear about it," said Santana, placing her hand on Brittany's side.

"There's not much to tell," Brittany shrugged. "I had to watch Hayley a lot. We did lots of art projects and went swimming every day. I went to summer school. It was just long because I missed you so much."

"Aw, B… I was missing you, too." Santana pushed a lock of hair behind Brittany's ear.

"Sometimes I would hang out with Quinn or Becky, but I think they just felt bad for me. Mike and Tina asked me to hang out a few times and we made up some new dances. They're awesome, I can't wait to show you."

"I can't wait to see," Santana smiled. Hearing about their friends made her think about school starting, which made her feel much less peaceful.

Brittany must have been thinking about school starting too. "I can't believe we've only got two weeks left… and then… Senior year!"

Santana tried to push away the thought. "I don't want to deal with school," she huffed, pulling a sheet over her head dramatically. She pulled it back down and her tone softened as she met Brittany's gaze. "Right now, all I want to think about is you…" she placed a finger on Brittany's chest, "and me" she pointed to herself, "and that bathtub," she said, pointing toward the bathroom.

"And bubbles," Brittany added.

"Of course…" Santana smiled, kissing Brittany on the nose.

Brittany nodded. "Let's hop in before breakfast gets here. They can just leave it for us out here and we'll eat when we're all clean and dry and wearing those fluffy bathrobes."

"Somehow I doubt we'll be clean and dry for long," Santana smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Or wearing anything." Santana gave her a mischievous smile and began extracting herself from the bed. She kept Brittany's gaze as she walked around the bed toward the bathroom. Brittany chuckled.

"What?" Santana asked, disappointed her sultry look and walk weren't working.

"You have amazingly awesome after-sex hair right now," Brittany giggled.

Santana grinned and tousled her hair. "That's all you, baby," she said. She reached for Brittany's hand, pulling her into the bathroom. "Come help me fix it so you can mess it up again."

An hour later, they were sitting on the bed eating chocolate chip pancakes with their hands, wearing fluffy white bathrobes.

"So what do you want to do today?" Brittany mumbled, her mouth full of pancake.

Santana swallowed what she was chewing. "You," she answered, leaning forward to lick chocolate off Brittany's upper lip.

Brittany pecked her back on the lips. "Obviously, but what else? It's our first day... as a couple." She looked up at Santana with a shy smile.

Santana returned the sheepish glance, smiling as she chewed. "We can do anything you want."

"Is there anything still going on for Pride?"

"I don't think so… I think the parade is the end of it," Santana said. "People go back to normal life on Monday."

Brittany looked disappointed. "I wish I had been here…"

Santana sighed, saddened that she hadn't been able to spend such a great day with Brittany. "Me too, Britt. It was amazing."

"Yeah?" Brittany raised her eyebrows, her hopeful expression returning.

"Yeah. I've never felt _so_ normal. People had on crazy costumes and there was loud music and dancing and singing and drinking … everyone, literally _everyone_ was happy."

"Sounds like Glee club," Brittany said with a grin, stuffing more pancake into her mouth.

Santana laughed. "But it was so much better. There were tons of girls holding hands and kissing each other right in the street. And pushing strollers with adorable kids in them."

"Guys too, I'm sure."

"Well, yeah," Santana shrugged.

"But you weren't looking at them," Brittany teased.

"Nope," Santana giggled as Brittany held a pancake up to Santana's lips. Santana took a bite.

"Well, how about we finish up our breakfast," Brittany said, "and then get dressed…" Santana pouted as she chewed, "… and go for a walk. You can show me where everything was, and I can imagine what it will be like next year."

Santana's pout turned into a smile. "Sounds good, Britt."

* * *

><p>The streets seemed deserted compared to the day before, although it was probably normal traffic for noon on a Monday. The remnants of Pride were everywhere; cans and streamers and discarded stickers were mashed into the concrete. The amount of trash was truly spectacular: bags were piled high on the sidewalk. Several workers moved slowly as they swept and picked up the streets. Brittany looked at it all, trying to imagine a crowd big enough to make such a mess. They walked a few blocks, Santana pointing out where the Main Stage had been, and how the parade route went around the perimeter of the park. They walked into the park, heading for a set of swings. They sat on the swings, quietly swaying. The aftermath of Pride seemed to mark the end of summer.<p>

"I don't want it to end," Santana sighed.

"You don't want what to end?" Brittany asked.

"This," Santana said.

"I told you I'm not going anywhere," Brittany said tenderly.

"Oh, I know. I mean this… This break from real life. Pride weekend. Summer," Santana said, leaning her head against the chain of the swing as it creaked. She watched Brittany's feet as the made patterns in the sand below her.

"I don't want to deal with people's judgment," Santana admitted. Brittany looked up into her eyes. There was a moment of silence as she thought about what going back to McKinley would mean.

"Are you scared?" Brittany asked, searching Santana's eyes.

Santana felt her heart pick up as she nodded. Telling the truth was relieving, but it was still scary. "Yeah. I am."

Brittany gave her a gentle smile. "That's okay. We can just… see how things go. Maybe it won't be so bad. We don't have to tell people first thing."

"They'll find out eventually," Santana sighed. "But you're right. Let's just take it as it comes. I know we'll have to deal with things. I just wish it could always be like this."

Brittany nodded and looked down, her face sad. Something in the sand must have caught Brittany's eye, because she hopped off the swing and picked it up. It was a pair of small rainbow earrings on an earring card. "Hey, look," she said, holding it up.

Santana wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, I would never wear those," she sneered.

Brittany said nothing, but removed the earrings from their card. She walked over and knelt in front of Santana and pulled the collar of Santana's shirt aside. Santana frowned; what on earth was Brittany doing?

Brittany took Santana's left bra strap in her fingers before sticking the earring through it and putting the earring back on it. She did the same thing to her own bra strap with the other earring.

"There," said Brittany, patting her chest with a proud smile. "Now we can take this weekend with us even when we have to go back to real life."

Santana beamed at Brittany; only _she_ could make a pair of tacky earrings romantic. Santana extended her hand and pulled Brittany towards her and into a kiss. Still sitting in the swing, she wrapped her legs around her and put her arms around Brittany's neck.

"I get to take the best part of this weekend home with me, anyways," she smiled. Her heart fluttered as she kissed Brittany on the lips again, right there in the middle of the park in broad daylight. She had never been prouder in her life.


	20. For Once In My Life

**Chapter 20: For Once In My Life**

Chapter soundtrack song: "For Once In My Life" by Stevie Wonder.

* * *

><p>Time: A Week later<p>

* * *

><p>"Party's here!" Santana proclaimed as she led Brittany by the hand into the Hummel-Hudson kitchen, wine bottle in her other hand.<p>

"Oh, please," Kurt retorted from his place in front of the stove, "Gay boys are _always_ the ones to start a party. It's just fact."

Santana smiled and rolled her eyes as she set the wine on the counter. She dropped Brittany's hand so she could give Blaine and Kurt each a hug. "Good to see you two," she said.

"Good to see you, Santana," said Blaine. "And even better to see your lovely date," he said, looking at Brittany. Brittany blushed as Blaine took her hand and kissed it. "Nice to have a _real_ lady in the house."

"Excuse me!" said Kurt dramatically, turning away from the stove.

"My bad," said Blaine. "Nice to have _two_ ladies in the house," he corrected, giving Kurt a nod and smirking at Santana.

"Screw you," said Santana, stifling a smile.

"Hi, Blaine," Brittany said sheepishly.

"I need your help, Santana," Kurt said over his shoulder, gesturing with a spatula.

"Sure thing," Santana said, tying on an apron that hung from a cabinet door.

"Where are Finn and Burt and Carol?" asked Brittany.

"Football parent/team meeting or something," replied Kurt casually from the stove. "Dice those carrots, Santana."

"We thought we'd have a gay dinner party while they were out," Blaine added.

"I've never been to a gay dinner party," said Brittany dreamily, looking at the ceiling.

"Oh, honey, we better make up for lost time, then," said Kurt, still furiously wielding the spatula over the stove.

"Santana, this is a nice bottle of wine," commented Blaine.

"Yeah well… if you can keep a secret, that's _actually_ how we do it Lima Heights. We're not above being a little 'bougie' on occasion," said Santana as she gracefully scraped the carrots into a pan and poured in some olive oil.

"Santana, we _all_ know Lima Heights is just a suburban development. There are no train tracks anywhere near it, and most people who live there drive station wagons and have a golden retriever. It's _always_ bougie," said Kurt bluntly. Brittany and Blaine giggled and Santana rolled her eyes.

"Hey, want to get a game out?" Blaine suggested to Brittany. "We can play while they're cooking."

"Oo, yes!" said Brittany. "Kurt, do you have Life?"

"Sure do," said Kurt.

"Is it in the hall closet?" asked Blaine.

"Second shelf from the top on the left," nodded Kurt.

Blaine set up the game on the large table that was in the kitchen. Brittany picked the blue car and Blaine picked the white car. Brittany put a little pink person in her car, and Blaine put a little blue person in his car. The sounds of the food steaming and sizzling mixed with the sound of the Life wheel spinning and Brittany and Blaine talking as their cars progressed along the board.

"Okay, it says I get married now," Brittany said.

"So pick a person and put them in the passenger seat," said Blaine, pointing towards the pile of tiny plastic people.

Brittany bit her lip, eying the pile. "I don't know which color to pick," she said.

"Close your eyes and pick one," suggested Blaine.

Brittany closed her eyes and picked up a piece. She opened her eyes, looked at the pink piece in her fingers and smiled. She stuck it in the passenger seat. "I don't care if it's not legal. That's the one I chose," she said decisively. Santana slyly looked over her shoulder from the stove at Brittany's car and smiled. As she turned back to the sizzling pan, her smile grew wider.

"You are so whipped," Kurt muttered quietly, seeing Santana's smile.

"What! How?" Santana protested in a whisper.

"You're wearing an apron, standing over a stove and smiling because Brittany just put a piece of pink plastic in a board game car. The Santana Lopez everyone _else_ knows is not in this room."

If it hadn't been covered in searing hot olive oil, Santana would have flicked her spatula at Kurt. But she knew he was right. And that was okay with her. She took the carrots off the stove and slid them onto a plate. She sliced a loaf of garlic bread and poured the wine into glasses. She took off her apron, brought the wine glasses to the table and sat down next to Brittany. Brittany spun the game wheel and picked up her glass and took a sip, looking at Santana. Santana gazed back at her, admiring how elegant she looked as she watched Brittany's lips on the glass. Brittany beamed up at her, a secretive smile creeping across her lips. Santana would have thought Brittany looked elegant drinking a bucket of cough syrup. She shuddered at the realization that Kurt was right; she _was_ whipped.

"Looks like someone got knocked up!" Blaine piped up.

Brittany and Santana's daze was broken. "What?" Brittany exclaimed.

"You landed on the baby space," Blaine explained, putting his finger on the board.

"Oh! Okay," Brittany said, relieved. She frowned at the pile of plastic people, not knowing which color to pick.

"Close your eyes again," Santana suggested. "That way you get to be surprised, just like in real life."

Brittany closed her eyes and picked up a piece. She opened her eyes, looked at the piece in her fingers and smiled. She put the piece in her car and turned back to Blaine, gesturing for him to take his turn.

Santana slid onto the edge of Brittany's chair, feeling Brittany nuzzle into her as they watched Blaine take his turn.

"I'm seriously so glad you two invited us here tonight," Brittany lilted. "It's good to be around people who know."

"You two haven't told anyone else?" Kurt asked as he sat at the table, raising an eyebrow.

"No…" Santana said, giving Brittany an apologetic smile. "We're taking things as they come." She took Brittany's hand. "We'll tell people eventually. Just… not yet," she added.

"Your secret's safe with us, ladies," Kurt said. "But I'll be very interested to see how long you can keep your hands off each other."

* * *

><p>"Ladies first," Santana said as she held the door of Breadstix for Brittany.<p>

Brittany stopped walking just before the threshold. "But we're both ladies. Who gets to go first?" she whispered with a concerned look on her face.

For a split second, Santana stopped to read Brittany's face before registering the twinkle in her eye.

"You do," said Santana with a smile. "You're more polite."

"Okay. Thanks," said Brittany, dropping the game and walking through the door.

"See? You always say please and thank you; you're _so_ polite," Santana giggled.

"I guess," Brittany shrugged as they approached the host stand. "Although you say please a lot too."

"In bed doesn't count," Santana whispered with a wink.

"How many?" the hostess asked.

"Two," the girls said in unison.

The hostess led them to a table, handed them their menus, and walked away. Santana made sure her napkin was in her lap. She had been here with Brittany at least a hundred times before; probably in this exact booth at least ten times. But tonight felt different, more formal. They looked over their menus as if they had never read them before. A server brought them two glasses of water and left. Santana put down her menu.

"Do you know what you want?" she asked.

"I always get the same thing," said Brittany, peering over her menu.

"I know," Santana said with a smile.

Brittany giggled and put down her menu, realizing how silly it was. "I like this," she said, folding her hands on the table.

"Going on a date?" Santana asked.

Brittany nodded. "It's like… a first step," she mused.

"Most people go on a date before they fall in love. And usually before they have sex, too," Santana smirked.

"But we're not most people," Brittany mused. "We can do it backwards if we want."

"Or forwards or sixty-nine, for that matter," teased Santana with her signature raised eyebrow.

Brittany rolled her eyes over a smile as Santana raised her water, feeling the sweat on the glass from the icy water on hand. "Cheers," she said.

"To?" Brittany asked.

"Us," said Santana. The clinked their glasses.

"To us," agreed Brittany, "and to senior year."

Santana looked at Brittany meaningfully as they took a sip. Tomorrow was the first day of school. The two weeks since Pride had flown by; the last hot summer nights with the windows open, listening to crickets as they whispered and stole kisses; days spent playing Frisbee in the park with Hayley or Mike and Tina; shopping for back-to-school clothes stealing kisses in the dressing rooms; trips to the movies and the ice cream shop; it had been a blissful two weeks. Santana's sure what would happen next, and she was growing more anxious by the day.

"Do you think we can keep our hands off each other?" asked Santana, remembering Kurt's comment from the previous week.

"We can if we _want_ to..." said Brittany, eying Santana to gauge her reaction. She took another sip. "Do you want to?"

Santana paused and then nodded, regretfully. "It's... it's gonna be a lot, Britt. Telling people. We _will_. But... not yet?" she asked with a cringing smile, hoping she wasn't hurting Brittany's feelings.

Brittany shrugged, clearly not happy. "Okay. We can wait. " she said.

Santana reached in her shirt and pulled her bra strap out, revealing the rainbow earring still stuck there. "I love you, B," she whispered.

Brittany grinned and pulled her own strap out, revealing the same. They tucked them back into their shirts, smiling.

"So how are we going to do this?" Santana asked. "Do you think… maybe we shouldn't sit next to each other all the time?"

"Okay..." Brittany shrugged. "For now."

"Just for now," Santana assured.

The waitress walked up. "Hello, ladies!" she chirped. "Have you decided what you'd like this evening?"

Santana nodded to Brittany. "Spaghetti and meatballs," they said in unison.

At least some things would never change.


	21. Hush

**Chapter 21: Hush**

Chapter title song: "Hush" by Angie Aparo. Play it for the second section, it's hot!

Time: November 2011

* * *

><p>September and October came and went without incident. The rest of the Glee Club was glad to see Brittany and Santana were back to their happy selves, even if they didn't know precisely why. Due to an elaborate set of rules, Brittany and Santana managed to keep their relationship a secret; they had a random interval schedule for how often they would sit together, guidelines about hand holding and hugging, and a strict no-kissing-in-public policy, with exceptions made for closets, empty locker rooms and library stacks. It became a game: Brittany would try to see how much she could get away with, and Santana would taunt her with racy text messages and short skirts. The constant flirtation made them insatiable when they finally got behind closed doors.<p>

The hallways were deserted as Santana strutted towards her locker, not caring that second period had already begun and she was late to Spanish. She was fairly confident that Mr. Schue would overlook her tardiness since she was, after all, fluent. As she opened her locker to toss a book inside, she was surprised when someone wrapped their arms around her waist.

"Hey there, secret girlfriend…" Brittany whispered into her ear.

Santana glanced up and down the hallway, relieved to discover it was deserted. She closed her locker and turned around, smiling.

"Hey," she purred, wrapping her arms around Brittany. She scanned the hallway once again before planting a kiss on Brittany's lips.

"In the hallway!" Brittany whispered in surprise. "That's against the rules!" she said with a playful grin.

"Mmm… I can't help that my girlfriend is _smoking_ hot and makes me want to rip off all her clothes," Santana purred as she ran her hands down Brittany's sides.

Brittany undulated her hips into Santana's, pressing them up against the lockers and Santana felt her pulse quicken. She looked up and down the hallway a third time before taking Brittany by the wrist. "Closet. Now," she demanded.

Brittany giggled and trotted behind Santana as they scampered down the hall a hundred yards. Santana flung the closet door open, swinging Brittany inside and shutting it behind them, turning on the light.

"You're so _fucking_ hot," Santana panted, glancing Brittany over before ravaging Brittany's mouth with her own.

Brittany met Santana's intensity, pressing her hips into Santana's and running her hands over Santana's ass. Santana groped Brittany's breasts, too pent up to devote any skill into making her movements sensual. She had just pressed her thigh up between Brittany's legs when the closet door swung open. Three shrieks rang out and Santana jumped away from Brittany as fast as she could. Brittany teetered at the sudden divide of their bodies as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve.

"Oh goodness!" their intruder sputtered, dumbfounded.

The girls looked at the open door, meeting a pair of huge, stunned brown eyes. Santana's heart beat a mile a minute.

"Cleaning supplies!" Miss Pillsbury said in shocked explanation for her intrusion.

No one moved.

"Which kind do you want?" Brittany said after a tense moment.

"Bleach," Emma gasped, eyes still wide.

Brittany turned around to the shelf, picked up a bottle of bleach and handed it to Emma. Emma accepted it but didn't move.

Santana's whole body was screaming for Miss Pillsbury to shut the door as the three women glanced back and forth at each other for another moment.

Finally Emma took a breath, collecting herself. "My door is always open if you want to chat."

"Thanks, Miss Pillsbury," Brittany stammered, glancing at Santana.

Emma forced a smile. "Ladies," she said with a nod as she took a step backwards.

Brittany reached for the doorknob and closed the door. They heard Emma's heels start to click down the hallway.

"Oh. My. God," Santana said, putting a hand over her face. She couldn't believe they had been caught. How could she have been so careless? "She won't say anything, will she?" she asked in a panic.

Brittany shook her head. "No. It's her job to keep secrets."

Santana hoped Brittany was right. She listened until she could no longer hear Emma's heels clicking in the hall. "We should… we should get to class," she stammered, opening the door. "I'll see you at Glee club."

* * *

><p>It was a Friday night in early December. Santana was sitting on the couch reading a book in the dark living room in front of a fire. She heard stilettos clicking on the hardwood floor behind her and looked up, startled. Brittany was grinning at her as she walked across the room.<p>

"Jeez," Santana gasped, putting her hand to her chest to settle her heartbeat. "I didn't hear the door."

Brittany was silent, her heels muted by the area rug as she drew closer to the couch. She plucked the book from Santana's hand and tossed it on the floor, climbing onto the couch and straddling Santana. "Your parents aren't home," she husked.

"They went to the office Christmas par-"

Brittany's lips cut Santana off as she undulated against her, pressing their torsos together. Santana inhaled through her nose, caught off guard but welcoming the feel of Brittany's tongue against her own. She slid her arms around Brittany's waist, feeling the curves she loved so much. Brittany pushed Santana's hands away, pressing her shoulders back into the couch.

"You've been teasing me all day," Brittany said in a low voice. "I didn't like it."

"Really?" Santana murmured coyly. "Because it seems like you kind of liked it." She pressed up into Brittany, kissing her again.

Brittany pushed her back again. "It was very naughty."

"You never complained about that before," Santana taunted, leaning up to kiss Brittany again.

Brittany stopped Santana's lips, pressing her finger against Santana's mouth firmly. "No talking," she warned, staring down at Santana. Santana nipped at Brittany's palm. "Hey!" Brittany cried. "I mean it." Her tone was dark and sultry. She leaned into Santana's neck, finger still on Santana's mouth as she whispered, "Tonight I'm in charge."

Santana felt herself shiver with excitement. She _loved_ when Brittany took charge. Normally Brittany was so gentle and sweet; seeing her aggressive side drove Santana wild. She tilted her hips up, pressing into Brittany, eager for whatever Brittany had in store.

"No," Brittany admonished, pressing her whole hand firmly over Santana's mouth and forcing Santana's head back into the couch cushions. Santana moaned into Brittany's hand, eyes rolling into the back of her head. Brittany began to grind her hips down on Santana, pressing her breasts against Santana's collarbone. She removed her hand from Santana's mouth and ran it up behind Santana's head through her hair where she grasped it in a fist. She moved her mouth to Santana's neck, planting firm kisses in a line and then slowly licking up the trail she had just made with her lips. Santana shivered.

"So hot," Santana whispered.

Brittany raised her lips to Santana's ear, grazing them across the lobe before whispering, "How many times do I have to tell you not to talk?" She bit Santana's ear before sitting back to look at Santana's expression, tossing her long blonde locks over her shoulder. Santana's eyes were dark and fixed on Brittany in arrant lust. The only sound in the room was the fire crackling.

Santana was practically shaking with excitement when Brittany whispered, "Take off your panties," as she slid off Santana's lap.

Santana hitched her skintight dress up to her waist and pulled her panties down, flicking them onto the rug. Brittany licked her lips as she pulled Santana forward on the cushion and spread her legs.

Kneeling on the floor, Brittany leaned forward and bit down on Santana's lower lip, pulling it slowly outward. With her hands, she spread Santana's legs wide, exposing her glistening center. She dragged her nails across Santana's trembling thighs, then brushed up and down Santana's sex with two digits, coating them in arousal as Santana whimpered. She brought her fingers up to her mouth and sucked.

"Somebody's ready for me," she hummed.

Santana shivered and nodded, panting as she closed her eyes and tilted her head back against the couch. Moments later a flat, wet tongue slid across her sex and she couldn't help but cry out. She gripped the couch as Brittany's tongue picked up pace until it was flitting furiously across Santana's clit. She was panting and digging her heels into the upholstery that covered the baseboard of the couch. Slowly she released her grip with one hand and brought it to the back of Brittany's head.

"No touching," Brittany whispered as she swatted Santana's hand away from the back of her head. She stood up and Santana winced. When Brittany made no move to keep going, Santana reached to touch herself. Before her hand met her dripping center, Brittany swatted Santana's wrist away.

"No touching. Let me," Brittany hummed.

Santana surrendered and felt a puff of air on her face as Brittany straddled her. She reached out to grasp Brittany's waist, and Brittany allowed it as she nipped at Santana's neck. Santana tried not to moan as Brittany fixed her lips to a spot on her neck and sucked the flesh into her mouth. She cried out as Brittany marked her; while she had previously thought marking was trashy and had grown angry when boys tried, she loved when Brittany did it. Even if their relationship was a secret, Santana was proud of how she'd been able to surrender whenever they made love. The marks reminded her of that.

Her first marking complete, Brittany slid her hand up Santana's thigh. Santana tried to steady her breath as Brittany dipped a single digit inside her. She bit her lip and undulated into Brittany, trying to get more friction.

Brittany continued her slow ministrations as she bent down in, placing her lips on the soft skin next to Santana's collarbone. She placed three kisses in a circle before attaching her lips again. She inhaled and sucked the skin in, hard against her teeth and tongue, marking Santana again. Santana gasped as Brittany released her mouth, smiling. Santana knew she would enjoy that bruise for days to come, seeing it in the mirror when she stepped out of the shower or got ready for bed, its purple hue reminding her of this moment. Brittany pulled back and looked into Santana's eyes as she pushed two fingers inside. Santana exhaled and slid down the cushions into Brittany's fingers.

As Brittany quickened her pace, Santana felt her jaw go slack, a sign she was close to release.

"You're so close," Brittany purred.

Santana nodded and furrowed her brow as Brittany pumped her fingers in and out, varying her pace to keep Santana forever in a state of torment.

"Do you want me to let you come?" Brittany hummed into Santana's ear.

Santana nodded, whimpering.

Brittany inserted a third finger and Santana's brows rose as she inhaled sharply.

"Who's making you feel so good?" Brittany teased into Santana's ear.

"You," Santana gasped, trembling.

"Who?" Brittany taunted.

"Brittany!" Santana whimpered.

Brittany curled her fingers and pressed her thumb into Santana's clit.

Santana shrieked, her insides crushing Brittany's fingers and her back arching off the couch as her head tilted back in ecstasy. Brittany kissed her neck as she shook from head to toe. When Santana's body started to relax, Brittany stilled her hand and hummed into Santana's skin. Santana wrapped her arms around Brittany's neck. Brittany slowly extracted her hand from Santana's sex as Santana shuddered into Brittany's neck.

Brittany scooped Santana's limp frame up and pulled her down onto the rug, placing her head on a pillow. She brushed the hair from Santana's face, watching the flames cast their dancing light over Santana's closed eyelids. She simply watched her as Santana's chest rose and fell for a few minutes.

Santana finally regained her ability to speak coherently. "I _love_ when you do that, Britt," she groaned, exhausted. She opened her eyes halfway, gazing at Brittany hovering next to her. "It's so hot."

Brittany wiggled her eyebrows at Santana, who lay splayed on the floor, dress bunched around her waist. "You like when I ambush you with sex?" she grinned.

Santana nodded and shivered. Brittany pulled a blanket over them as she snuggled into Santana's side and wrapped her arm around her, holding her drained body close. Santana closed her eyes again, breathing in the smell of Brittany's skin.

"Can I give you your Christmas present now?" Brittany asked, softness replacing the coyness in her voice.

"That wasn't it?" Santana smiled between deep breaths.

Brittany chuckled. "That was part of it."

"If the other part is anything like the first part… I think I might need to rest a little while first," said Santana, eyes still closed.

Brittany let out a soft giggle. "No, it's something you can unwrap," she reassured.

"You didn't have to get me anything, Britt…" Santana sighed, still in a euphoric daze.

"I wanted to," Brittany shrugged.

Santana grinned and said nothing. She watched as Brittany got up and took a small tissue paper package out of her purse. She brought it over and sat back down, placing it on Santana's stomach. With great effort, Santana propped herself up on the pillow and unwrapped the tissue paper. Inside was a necklace: a silver chain with a small treble clef dangling from it. Santana felt her heart swell.

"It's to wear instead of your Cheer necklace since we don't cheer anymore," Brittany explained.

"It's perfect, Britt," Santana said, leaning in for a kiss as Brittany took it from her hands to help her put it on.

Brittany clasped the necklace and admired the way it looked around Santana's neck. "Looks like you'll have to wear your hair down this week," she grinned as she drew her hand back from Santana's neck.

Santana put her hand up to where she knew the bruise was and smiled. "You like my hair down anyway," she giggled.

Brittany glanced up at the ceiling and pursed her lips in admission.

"Your present is upstairs," Santana said. She grunted as she rose to her knees, slipping her dress down to cover herself and smoothing her hair. No sooner had she gotten to her feet when the front door flew open, letting in a flurry of snowflakes and Santana's parents.

Santana's whole body went icy with fear and her heart beat in double-time. What would have happened if they had come home just five minutes earlier?

"_Hi_, mom!" Santana exclaimed in panicked animation. "Hi, dad," she said slightly less emphatically. She saw Brittany's hand dart out and grab something, hiding it under the blanket. "How was the office Christmas party?" she asked.

Dolores gave her a puzzled look. "It was lovely. Lots of good people and lots of wine."

"Hi, Dr. and Mrs. Lopez," Brittany said, waving from her seat on the carpet. Brittany always did a better job of staying calm.

"Hello, Brittany," said Antonio.

"Britt and I were going to make some cocoa and go do homework. _Upstairs_," Santana informed them.

"That's nice, dear," said Dolores, already walking down the hall.

Antonio hung their coats in the closet. "Have fun, girls," he said. He followed his wife down the hall into the kitchen.

Santana looked down at Brittany, eyes wide as her blood churned cold through her limbs. Brittany pulled back the blanket with a smirk, revealing Santana's panties. Santana felt sick and horrified at what had almost happened. She grabbed the underwear and blanket in one hand, taking Brittany's elbow in the other. "Upstairs," she hissed.

When they got upstairs, Santana pushed Brittany into her room and closed the door. She leaned against it in relief, gasping as she tossed the blanket and underwear in the corner. "Oh my _God_, Britt, that was _way_ too close," she panted.

"Sorry…" Brittany mumbled, shrugging.

"It's not your fault… I- I should have been more careful," Santana stammered, pressing her hand to her chest, feeling how furiously her heart was still beating. "I think I'm gonna have a heart attack."

"You don't think they'd be okay with it?" Brittany asked.

Santana looked at Brittany like she was crazy. "_No_," she scoffed. "And definitely not if they found out _that_ way." She couldn't seem to catch her breath. She walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge. Brittany sat next to her.

"It's ok, baby…. They didn't see," Brittany hummed, rubbing Santana's back. "We'll be more careful from now on."

Santana felt herself calm as the warmth of Brittany's hand soothed away a few of her jitters. "_Definitely_ more careful," she agreed.

After a minute, Santana's heart had quieted and her breathing had evened out. She looked at Brittany and saw she looked nervous, as if she were afraid Santana would run away. Santana instantly wanted to reassure her. "I still want you to fuck my brains out sometimes," Santana mumbled. "Just… you know, in a bomb shelter on a deserted island."

Brittany grinned. "That sounds hot," she replied. "I could make you scream _really_ loud."

Santana chuckled and kissed Brittany on the cheek, trying to put the incident behind her. "I want to give you your present now."

Brittany tried to contain her giddiness as Santana got up and rummaged through her sock drawer. Santana pulled out a small, red velvet box. "Merry Christmas, baby," she said, unable to contain her proud grin as she handed it to Brittany with a flourish. Brittany's eyes went wide as she opened and saw the silver plated ring with a tiny ruby set into it.

"_Santana_!" Brittany gasped. "Is that _real_?"

"Yep," Santana said, her grin growing wider.

"But it must have been really expensive!" Brittany protested.

"Not really," Santana shrugged, her smile growing more smug by the second. "It's my first Christmas present to you as my girlfriend and I wanted it to be special."

"Is that a _ruby_?" Brittany whispered.

"A small one, yeah," Santana nodded. "Rubies have special meaning."

"What do they mean?" Brittany asked, still in awe as she looked back and forth between the ring and Santana's face.

"They mean love, integrity, passion and promise," Santana said, her smile softening and her voice quieting. "All the things I have with you."

Brittany beamed up at her and held out her hand. Santana plucked the ring from the box and put it ring on, admiring how it graced Brittany's pale, thin finger.

Brittany smiled up at Santana. "I'll wear it even when we're _not_ in a bomb shelter on a deserted island."

* * *

><p>Sectionals came and went without a hitch. After that, Regionals arrived quickly. New Directions won without much effort, thanks to the solid solo performances of the Seniors and the energetic background vocals of the new underclassmen. Brittany and Santana had been selected by Mr. Schue to perform the totem show tune in their set list: a sassy duet from <em>City of Angels<em> called "What You Don't Know About Women." The irony wasn't lost on Brittany or Santana, and least of all Kurt, who had barely been able to contain his laughter when Mr. Schue assigned it to them. Their win at Regionals was so expected it was hard to get excited about; the _real_ competition was at Nationals in a few months.

Santana hummed the tune of their duet as they drove back to Lima, still in their competition dresses. She absentmindedly reached for Brittany's pinky, like the old days. Brittany looked at their hands, studying them.

"Sneaking around was really fun for a while," Brittany said as though she'd been chewing on the thought for the entire drive.

Santana stopped humming and it was quiet for a minute.

"But you're always worried about getting caught. It's getting kind of old."

Santana knew where Brittany was going with this; Brittany wanted to tell people. But Santana wasn't ready. "You know we'll do it eventually, B," she hushed, tried to put off the conversation.

"_When_, S?" Brittany asked, suddenly impatient. "It's already February." She paused, her voice growing quiet and sad. "I feel like you're ashamed or something."

Santana glanced at her and saw Brittany looking out the passenger window, trying to hide her pout. It was her genuine pout, not the pout she used to get her way.

"Baby…" Santana started, her heart wrenching at the sadness she knew she had caused. She squeezed Brittany's pinky in hers. "I could never be ashamed of you." She wanted to make Brittany a promise, to assure her things would change. But she didn't want to make a promise she couldn't keep, or a promise that would scare her too much. "Let's just get through midterms and college applications and then we'll talk about it."

"Promise?" Brittany asked, looking back down at ring.

"Promise," said Santana, lifting her eyes back to the road. It was torture to know she was making Brittany sad. Part of her hoped Brittany would forget the promise she had just made. But she knew that wouldn't happen.


	22. Somebody Told Me

**Chapter 22: Somebody Told Me**

Time: March 2012

* * *

><p>"Morning, Britt," Santana purred into Brittany's sleeping ear. Brittany stirred. "It's time to get up and buy porn and cigarettes," Santana teased.<p>

"Why?" Brittany croaked, eyes still closed.

"It's your eighteenth birthday," Santana reminded her.

Brittany opened her eyes and smiled when she saw Santana leaning over her in bed, wearing only a tank top, hair messy and shining in the morning light. "No cigarettes. Gross," Brittany mumbled.

Santana leaned down to kiss Brittany. "Porn, then," she grinned, kissing Brittany's neck.

Brittany smiled, turning her head so Santana could kiss her favorite spot. "I don't need any porn. I have you."

"What shall we do then?" Santana said, tracing her finger down Brittany's neck to her cleavage. "We have to do _something_ to celebrate you no longer being jailbait."

Brittany propped herself up and looked at Santana with such a serious express that Santana stopped her finger.

"We can tell someone," Brittany said, her voice absolutely solemn. "About us."

Santana glanced away. She knew how much it would mean to Brittany. She _wanted_ to give Brittany what she asked for. But when she thought of actually telling someone, her whole body seized up and her mouth went dry. She swallowed. "Who do you want to tell?"

"Mike and Tina," Brittany said.

Santana contemplated this. They _had_ spent a lot of time together with the other couple. Maybe they already suspected.

"And tomorrow I want to tell the rest of Glee Club," Brittany added.

Santana's eyes widened and her heart thudded. That was more than she had expected. "_Everyone_?" she asked.

"It's not _that_ many people, S. They're our friends."

"I don't know, Britt… Mike and Tina, sure…"

Brittany sighed, flopping back down and looking up at the ceiling. "You're not ready," she puffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Santana searched Brittany's face for a hint of the childish pout that meant she was partly kidding. When she didn't find it, she looked away again. There was a loaded silence in the room. "Sometimes I wonder if you'll _ever_ be ready," Brittany muttered.

The words stung, but Santana knew Brittany was right; she _didn't_ think she would ever be ready. But she also knew the truth would come out at some point; she might as well make it on her own terms and make Brittany happy in the process. Steeling herself, she took a breath. "Okay," she said. "We can tell."

Brittany looked up at Santana, her expression surprised and hopeful. When she saw Santana was meeting her gaze, she uncrossed her arms. "Really?" she whispered.

Santana took another deep breath. "Really," she said, trying to muster up some confidence.

"You're not just saying that because it's my birthday?" Brittany asked in disbelief.

"No," Santana said. "You're right. I may never feel ready. But it's important to you, so it's important to me."

Brittany smiled with the light of a thousand suns. That smile calmed Santana's nerves for a moment. Seeing Brittany so happy, knowing it had been her doing, made her feel so powerful.

"I love you, B," Santana said as she leaned down to kiss Brittany again.

"I love _you_, S," Brittany returned, burrowing into Santana's neck as Santana's hair cascaded around them. "I want everyone to know how much."

* * *

><p>"Alright guys, now that Regionals are over, let's talk Nationals set list," Mr. Schue said, signaling the beginning of rehearsal. "It's our last competition with our original members and graduating Seniors."<p>

Disappointed mutters and a smattering of _awws_ peppered the room.

"…so I was thinking we should give our original members the spotlight one last time."

"Oh, oh, I have the perfect song!" Brittany interjected, bobbing in her seat with her hand in the air. She caught Santana's eye across the room. Santana knew what Brittany was silently asking and she felt her stomach clenched. She held her breath for a moment and nodded.

"What is it, Brittany?" asked Mr. Schue.

"Lay All Your Love On Me, from _Mama Mia_," Brittany answered. "I want to sing it with Santana," she grinned.

There was a pause.

"You want to sing a love song together?" Puck asked, his expression dubious.

"Oh please, how is that any different than me and Santana singing 'River Deep, Mountain High' last year?" Mercedes said, rolling her eyes. "They're both love songs. We killed it, right Santana?"

Santana didn't respond, glancing between Mercedes and Brittany. Brittany looked worried that her plan hadn't worked. There was silence as everyone looked back and forth between Santana and Brittany.

"It _is_ different," Santana finally spoke, fixing her gaze on Brittany, searching for any confidence she could find there.

A few confused whispers echoed around the room.

"I want to sing a love song with the person I love," Santana stated. As soon as she said the words, she felt an odd sense of peace. But it was more energetic than peace. She realized with a jolt she felt proud. She was _proud_ to be with Brittany.

Brittany smiled at Santana in utter adoration. The whispering increased.

"You two… _love_ each other?" Sam asked, glancing between them.

Santana and Brittany nodded, still staring at each other.

"Since _when_!" Puck exclaimed, clearly excited.

"Oh jeez, people," Kurt said, excited to finally be able to comment. "Are you really _that_ blind? Did it not seem slightly odd that neither of them has dated, kissed or slept with anyone else in this club all year?"

Their friends looked around the room, no doubt realizing Kurt spoke the truth.

"That _is_ a little weird," Finn agreed.

"Maybe they just ran out of people," Sam muttered, "the club isn't _that_ big."

Santana narrowed her eyes at him.

"I'm still waiting to hear how long you two have been doin' the nasty," Puck said.

"Shut it, Dickhead," Santana glared, jerking forward in her chair.

"I'm just saying…" Puck shrugged as he leaned back in his chair.

"Do _not_ make me come up there and kick the crap out of you, Fuckerman," Santana threatened. "Britt and I aren't together to fulfill whatever twisted fantasy you have going on in that pea-sized brain of yours. This isn't about sex, it's about… it's about _love_, okay?" she stammered. "Sorry you're not familiar with the concept," she sneered, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.

"Take it easy, Santana," Quinn warned, putting her hand on Puck's arm.

"I won't _take it easy_, Fabray," Santana seethed. "Why is it when two girls get together it's all about entertainment for a guy? It pisses me off. Kurt and Blaine don't have to deal with that kind of shit. Why should _we_?"

"She has a point," Artie agreed, glancing around nervously.

Unsettled by the mixed reaction they had received, Santana looked to Brittany for help with how to proceed.

"Look," Brittany said. "We're not ready for the whole school to know. But we trust you guys." Her voice was so sweet and gentle it eased a bit of the tension in Santana's gut.

"So… you don't want everyone at McKinley to know, but you want to sing a lesbian love song in front of everyone in New York?" Quinn asked skeptically.

"No one from McKinley will be there," Brittany shrugged. "And it's not a _lesbian _love song. It's a love song."

The room was quiet as people glanced around room. Mr. Schue stepped in. "I have to admit," he began, "I think it's a great idea."

"What!" Sam exclaimed. "You're _not _serious… You're gonna let Ellen and Portia sing at _Nationals_?"

"Absolutely," said Mr. Schue with a nod directed at Sam. "Why wouldn't we?"

Rachel piped up. "As the child of two gay dads, I feel I have a responsibility to educate the rest of you on the importance of self-expression and self-acceptance in same-sex relationships. As much as people talk about equality, there _are_ innate differences in the way same-sex relationships work. This group is the perfect arena for Brittany and Santana to _explore_ their relationship through creative collaboration. New Directions has always celebrated our diversity. Why would we make our set list for Nationals more traditional than _we_ are?"

For once, Santana hoped everyone else had been listening to Rachel.

"I think it would be adorable," agreed Tina. "I mean… look at them." She gave Santana and Brittany a smile. Santana gave Tina tight-lipped but grateful smile in return. She was glad they had told her ahead of time.

"I also think it would give us a competitive edge," Rachel continued.

Now Santana had to roll her eyes. Of course Rachel would make it about the competition.

"In this day and age, nontraditional pairings are canon. I think it's wonderful that Brittany and Santana want to express their love through song. We should all support them."

"Okay, so that's decided," Mr. Schue said, abruptly ending the discussion. "Brittany and Santana will sing a song from Mama Mia. Rachel, Finn? What are your thoughts about other numbers?"

The conversation trailed off as Rachel launched into a soliloquy about how to choose an appropriate show-stopper. Santana blocked out everything except Brittany's gaze. Brittany was beaming and Santana knew she was beaming back. Her stomach wasn't quite settled, but her heart was overflowing.

_Thank you_, Santana mouthed across the room to Brittany.

* * *

><p>Santana strode down the hallway toward her locker between classes. She was thinking about Nationals and grinning as she imagined singing with Brittany. A week had gone by, and even if Puck had been a perv and Sam had been a jerk, she didn't regret telling their friends. She supposed Brittany had been right; telling people felt kind of good.<p>

"'Sup, _dyke_," Azimio gibed as he walked past.

Santana stopped dead in her tracks. For once she had no idea what to do; she was frozen with panic.

Azimio kept walking. "Say hi to that hot piece of ass you're banging for me," he added over his shoulder as he stalked around the corner.

Santana's blood froze in her veins and her feet were stuck to the ground.

_No. No, no, NO, _was all she could think. _Who the fuck told?_ She stayed there frozen for at least ten seconds. When she was able to move, she slid to the side of the hallway, leaning against the lockers. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, making a small crash against the metal. She desperately wished she would wake up and realize that this wasn't really happening. But the locker was real and hard against her back, and the stream of students passing in front of her continued on as the moments ticked by.

She collected herself and pulled out her phone. She had to make sure Brittany was okay.

_Hey, B, has anyone been bothering you today?_ she texted.

_No, why?_ Brittany replied a moment later.

_Just wondering._ _See you at lunch!_ Santana answered. She knew she was fiercely protective of Brittany; the thought of anyone upsetting her made Santana's heart feel too tight. She straightened up from the lockers and started walking towards Spanish, keeping an eye out for Azimio or any of his football teammates. Halfway there, she turned around and ran to the opposite wing of the building.

Emma's office was neat and polished. Santana had expected as much. Peering inside, she saw Emma was perched behind her desk placing freshly-sharpened pencils in a cup.

"Miss Pillsbury?" Santana asked.

Emma looked up. "Oh hi, Santana," she said with her usually perkiness. "Come in."

Santana looked around the room from the doorway before taking a few steps inside.

"Sit down," Emma encouraged.

Santana eyed the chair before sitting down. As she did, she scanned some of the pamphlets behind the desk, frowning at the odd alliterations. Her eyes then fell on a piece of paper with a rainbow triangle on its point, with the words SAFE SPACE printed underneath.

"How can I help you?" Emma smiled.

"Do you, uh… do you remember back in November? The closet?" Santana started, glancing back at the rainbow triangle.

"Uh huh," Miss Pillsbury nodded. "I was looking for bleach."

"Right," Santana mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

"It's okay, I know how high school students are. Your hormones are going crazy," Miss Pillsbury said, trying to soothe Santana's embarrassment. "Though you _might_ want to think about selecting locations that are a little less… dirty."

"It's not just hormones," Santana sighed.

"You like cleaning supplies too?" Emma said, trying to make a joke.

"We love each other," Santana blurted.

There was a moment of quiet as Miss Pillsbury waited for Santana to go on.

"Me and Britt," Santana explained. "We're together."

"Uh huh," Miss Pillsbury said, unsurprised as she squirted a dollop of hand sanitizer on her hands nervously. "And how long has that been going on?"

"Since August. Well, since forever," Santana admitted. "But officially since August."

"Wow, that's quite a long time. Especially in high school," said Emma. "It must be very special."

"It is," Santana nodded. "It was this big, special secret we had together for a while. But a few weeks ago Brittany said what she wanted more than anything was to not have to hide anymore."

Emma nodded, trying to read Santana's face. "So are you thinking about telling people? That's a big decision."

"It _is_ a big decision," Santana said, relieved that Miss Pillsbury saw her side too. "But it just means so much to Britt…"

"I'm honored that you're telling me, even if I did find out by accident before," Miss Pillsbury said in a quiet, warm voice. "Who does Brittany want to tell?"

"We already told some people. Kurt kept our secret since the very beginning."

"He's a good friend," said Miss Pillsbury. "Who else?"

"Mike and Tina. They kind of already knew. They were really sweet and supportive. And then last week we told the rest of Glee Club."

"Oh wow, that's a lot of people," said Emma, eyes widening.

"I know, right?" Santana exhaled. "Most of them were fine with it."

"Most?"

"Sam's still bitter and Puck is a perv," Santana explained. "But everyone else was nice. I was so relieved." Santana paused for a moment as her throat tightened, remembering what had just happened in the hallway. "But someone told." There was another pause. Santana lowered her voice to just about a whisper. "Just now, Azimio called me… he called me a dyke in the hall. And then he said something mean about Britt."

"Oh, dear," said Emma, concerned. "That's awful, Santana. I'm so sorry."

Santana shrugged. "I can handle it."

"You shouldn't have to," Emma murmured, shaking her head.

Santana pursed her lips, avoiding eye contact again. "I'm just worried someone will go after Britt. She's not tough like me. This is _exactly_ why I didn't want to tell people…"

"Santana, Brittany is _just_ as tough as you. Maybe even tougher. Just because she wears her heart on her sleeve doesn't mean she's weak."

Santana was embarrassed. She hadn't meant to call Brittany weak at all. If anything, Brittany was strong enough for the two of them.

"She's not weak," Santana acknowledged. "I guess I'm just protective. I don't want anyone to hurt her feelings. I feel like I should be with her all the time, ready to fight off assholes like Azimio."

"You can't be next to Brittany all the time," Emma said, shaking her head. "But maybe what you need is a team of people on your side who will stand up to bullies like Azimio for _both_ of you."

"Like what, _hall monitors_ or something?" Santana sneered.

"Kind of. I think it's time this school had a GSA," Emma stated.

"A what?" Santana frowned.

"A gay-straight alliance. A club where gay people _and_ straight people can talk about things like coming out, family, equality, relationships, and how to make our school a safe place for everyone. A club that promotes understanding and acceptance."

"That sounds gayer than a rainbow pony wearing a Chiquita banana hat," Santana said, rolling her eyes.

"One of the things we would talk about in GSA is language, Santana," Emma said. Her voice had a hint of warning. "Like how it's not okay to use the word 'gay' as a synonym for 'stupid.'"

Santana was stunned; she _had _just used the word gay to mean stupid. "You're… you're right," she stammered. "So… would it be like a big public club _anyone_ could come to?" she asked hesitantly.

"That's up to you. Many GSAs start privately. We would only invite people we all trusted."

Santana contemplated Miss Pillsbury's suggestion. It would be nice to have a space where they could talk about things. Kurt, Tina and Mike would definitely be in. Mercedes and Rachel, too.

"That… that sounds like it could be good," Santana mumbled. "But I don't want me and Britt to be the only couple there."

"You won't be," said Emma.

Santana furrowed her brow, confused.

"You're not the only gay couple in this school with an affinity for the janitor's closet," said Emma.

Santana was surprised, then relieved. "We're not?" she asked.

"Nope," said Emma, pursing her lips to cover a smile. "I'll talk to some other students and put something together. Come by tomorrow after school."

* * *

><p>A week later, Santana strutted out to the parking lot and saw Brittany waiting by her car, squinting in the bright sun. "Hey Britt," she said, unable to contain her smile as she wrapped Brittany up in a big, protective hug.<p>

"Hey, sweetheart," Brittany grinned.

"How was your day?" Santana purred, pulling back and putting her hands on Brittany's waist

"It was great! I got a B on my science lab," Brittany bubbled.

"That's great!" Santana cheered, giving Brittany's waist a squeeze. "You're gonna do great in college."

Brittany smiled wider. "How was _your_ day?" she asked.

Santana pursed her lips, smiling with excitement. "Come with me," she said, gesturing with her head back towards the building.

Brittany tilted her head in question.

"I want you to come talk with Miss Pillsbury and some other students."

Santana led Brittany back inside with a smug smile on her face. They walked down the hall to a classroom in the far wing of the building. Paper had been put over the small window in the door. She gave three knocks, then paused and knocked three more times. She heard footsteps, and then Mercedes opened the door a crack.

"Welcome!" Mercedes grinned, opening the door for them to come in. Inside they saw Kurt, Mike, Tina, Rachel, and Miss Pillsbury seated in a circle. But there were also other faces they recognized from around school; a girl from Brittany's science class was holding hands with a girl from Santana's Spanish class. A boy from their sophomore geometry class was cozied up next to a boy who had recently transferred to McKinley. Everyone smiled at them as they walked in and sat down.

"Is this an intervention?" asked Brittany, glancing around nervously.

Santana giggled and took Brittany's hand, squeezing it. "No, Britt. It's a Gay-Straight Alliance."

Brittany looked around the room, taking in the smiles and held hands in the circle. She looked back to Santana in amazement.

"Now that we're all here, who wants to start our first meeting?" asked Miss Pillsbury. "I think we should talk about all the ways people can define themselves…"

* * *

><p>"Santana, that was amazing!" Brittany bubbled. "I can't believe you actually started a GSA at McKinley," she whispered as they walked back down the empty hall after the club let out.<p>

"It wasn't all me," Santana admitted. "It was Miss Pillsbury's idea."

"But still! I think that's my favorite thing you've ever done for me," Brittany gushed. "I loved _every_ minute."

"Me, too," Santana grinned. "And I didn't just do it for you… I did it for us. And... and for me," she admitted.

"I feel like we could do _anything_ right now!" Brittany proclaimed. "Even… even tell our parents!"

Santana slowed in her tracks. That was a bigger hurdle than she was prepared to jump. "Let's… let's just start with the GSA. I don't want to think about parents. Yet," she said cautiously.

"Okay…" Brittany sighed, her pace slowing.

Santana regretted dismissing Brittany's suggestion so quickly, especially seeing how quickly Brittany deflated. Inside, she knew Brittany was right. They _would_ have to tell their parents someday. She made an instant decision, stopped walking, and turned to face Brittany. Brittany tilted her head.

"What?" Brittany asked.

"You can tell your parents if you want," Santana said decisively.

"Really?" Brittany asked, the joy and hope reigniting in her eyes.

"Yeah," Santana nodded. "If you're ready… you should."

Brittany squealed and wrapped her arms around Santana's neck. As Brittany squeezed her tightly, Santana was filled with fear as she imagined telling her own parents.


	23. Mother, Mother

**Chapter 22: Mother, Mother**

April 2012

Santana walked down the stairs slowly, full of dread, yet resolved. Despite her horrified reaction to Brittany's suggestion they tell their parents, after mulling it over, she realized she was waiting for a perfect moment that would never come. She walked into the dining room, feeling her pulse pick up. Her mother had picked up Chinese food on the way home, and was serving it onto plates. Her father was reading a magazine over the top of his glasses at his place. Santana sat down in her chair and picked up a carton of chow mein, serving herself. Tonight was the night.

"I'm really glad you guys are both home. It's nice to have dinner together," Santana said. She squeezed her eyes shut, cursing herself for sounding so forced and polite.

"We always like to know what's going on with our little girl," Antonio said, glancing up from his magazine for a moment. "How are things at McKinley?" he asked, eyes back on his newspaper.

"They're okay. Glee club is getting ready for a big competition."

"I read something about that in the paper last week," Dolores said. "You're going to the big state competition."

Antonio and Dolores nodded in approval as they took bites of their food.

"It's actually the national competition," Santana corrected. Antonio raised his eyebrows in pleasant surprise.

When she had finished chewing, Mrs. Lopez added, "Que bueno, querida."

Santana gave them a stifled smile and a shrug. "We're pretty excited… the club even chose me to sing a solo."

"You'll be great, nena. What are you singing?"

"It's an ABBA song called _Lay All Your Love On Me_," Santana said, looking down at her food. "I'm singing it with Brittany." She hoped by some unlikely coincidence they would understand what she was trying to tell them.

"That's great. You won't have anything to worry about, singing with your best friend."

Santana nodded in agreement, disappointed her initial segway hadn't worked. She took a few bites, chewing slowly. "We started a new club at school. Me and Brittany, I mean."

"That's nice," Antonio said, not looking up.

"What kind of club?" asked Dolores.

Santana crossed her ankles under her chair and bit her lip. This was it. Steeling herself, she imagined Brittany's hand in hers, warm and encouraging and every bit worth the few words she was about to force out. "It's um… it's a gay straight alliance."

There was silence.

"What?" Antonio asked, looking up.

"A gay straight alliance," Santana repeated, a little louder. "For boys that like boys and girls who like girls. Like me."

No one moved for a few seconds.

"I don't want to hear about this," Santana's mother blurted. "What you do is your business, pero no me diga."

Antonio glanced at Dolores and cleared his throat. "How's cheerleading, Santana?"

Santana scowled at him. "I quit last year." She looked back and forth at her parents, who were acting as if she hadn't just told them her most guarded secret. When they showed no change in affect or emotion, she stabbed a piece of chicken with her fork and raised it to her mouth. Halfway through her bite she changed her mind, spat out the chicken and cleared her place. She put her half-full plate on the kitchen counter and went upstairs, stomping harder than was necessary.

Santana wondered what she had expected. A parade? Cake? She flopped down on her bed, sighing in exasperation. Santana's phone buzzed. She picked it up and read the text message from Brittany: _Come over!_ _We have ice cream cake!_ Santana smiled and picked up her keys. She walked down the stairs lightly.

"I'm going to my _friend's_ house," Santana called over her shoulder as she slammed the door, not waiting for a response.

* * *

><p>"Santana, welcome!" sang Mrs. Pierce as she opened the door before Santana was even up the stairs. "We are <em>so<em> happy to see you!" Her Southern accent rang like bells as she held out her arms for a hug.

It wasn't hard to tell where Brittany got her natural optimism and exuberance. Mrs. Pierce was so upbeat and animated, it was almost cartoonish. Everything about her was big; her hair, her eyes, her smile, and her breasts. Not that Santana meant to check out Brittany's mom. But the bright pink low-cut top made it impossible to avoid seeing. Somehow Mrs. Pierce managed to not look trashy, despite being over-the-top; perhaps it was her Southern charm. Santana couldn't help but smile every time she saw her.

"Hi, Mrs. Pierce," she responded, trying not to let her exasperation with her own parents bleed into her voice.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Vickie?" said Mrs. Pierce with a smile, ushering Santana inside.

"Sorry. Hi, Vickie," Santana corrected herself as she walked in. The house was a mess as usual; piles of magazines and shoes and craft supplies were on tables and chairs and floor. Along one wall of the Pierce living room was – inexplicably – a collection of elaborate but empty bird cages. Two white couches faced each other with a table in between. Brittany was sitting on one sofa next to her father Gordon. There was a deck of cards on the table – Go Fish, Santana noted – and plates and an ice cream cake waiting to be cut.

"Santana!" Gordon rose from couch, arms outstretched. He was as jolly as his wife, and always spoke with big hand gestures. "Good to see you!" He wrapped Santana in a firm hug. "You're looking lovelier every day. I think I see a little _twinkle_ in your eye."

"Oh, hush now," said Vickie with a grin. "Don't embarrass the poor girl." When Santana had first met Brittany's parents, she quickly understood why Brittany was sometimes quiet; it was hard to get a word in edgewise around Gordon and Vickie.

"Hey, Santana." Brittany got up with a smile and gave Santana a hug, adding an extra squeeze.

"Hey, Britt" said Santana softly into her neck, giving her a quick, tender look as she sat on the couch opposite Brittany and Gordon.

"Where's Hayley?" Santana inquired.

"She's still at soccer practice. We were just about to have dessert when I thought, 'I bet Santana would like a piece of ice cream cake about now.' So I asked Brittany to invite you over," Vickie said as she picked up a knife and started cutting the cake.

"Well thanks," Santana said.

"Actually, the cake was just an excuse," Gordon admitted. "We just couldn't wait to talk with you."

"Oh?" Santana said curiously. Vickie handed her a piece of cake.

"This is a big deal," Gordon began. "We couldn't be happier for you and our Britt-Bee."

Santana looked at Brittany who just gave her a secretive grin. Santana was confused and thought maybe they were talking about the duet she would be singing with Brittany at Nationals.

"Yeah, we're uh… we're really excited. Who doesn't love Mama Mia?" Santana said as she took a bite of ice cream cake.

The Pierces laughed.

"Well, we're happy about that, too," Gordon said. "But _this_," – he pointed one finger at each girl- "is something to celebrate."

Santana looked at the three Pierces, who were all smiling at froze as she realized what they were talking about. She looked at Brittany, who just nodded with a smile. Santana realized with a hint of dread that she had just walked into a Pierce-style coming out party. She gave Brittany a pained look for not warning her but Brittany just kept grinning at her across the coffee table at her.

"Congratulations, girls!" Gordon boomed.

"We just _knew_ there was something special happening! And we're so glad you two figured it out," Vickie gushed, handing Brittany and Gordon their cake.

"I don't think I could have picked a prettier, smarter, nicer girl for my Britt-Bee if I was able to dream her up myself," Gordon mused, looking up at the birdcages on the wall. Vickie nodded in agreement.

"Um – thank you," Santana stuttered, concentrating on her cake to avoid having to look at the expressions around her.

"Brittany just told us over dinner. We're so happy and proud of both of you," Gordon said.

"Thanks," mumbled Santana again, mouth full of ice cream.

"We want you to know that you are _always_ welcome in our house. Consider this your second home," said Vickie warmly, serving herself a piece of cake. "We'll even get you your own key if you like."

"Thanks, Mrs. Pierce," Santana replied. "I mean Vickie." She was beyond overwhelmed at the sudden, exuberant reaction Brittany's parents had had.

"And we cannot _wait_ to march with both of you this summer in the parade in Columbus," Vickie continued.

"Ah yes, the P-FLAG contingent!" Gordon jumped in. "That brings back childhood memories for me…"

"You marched with P-FLAG as a kid?" Santana asked, desperate to steer the conversation away from herself for once.

"Every year," Gordon replied. "My parents were straight, and my brother and I were too young to really understand, but we all marched together every year. My parents thought it was important. They were ahead of their time."

"That's really sweet," said Santana.

"It's never too early to start teaching tolerance," said Vickie between bites of cake.

"I couldn't agree more, but there's something about that word… tolerance. I just don't like it. I don't know anyone who wants to be _tolerated_ and I certainly don't want Brittany to be tolerated. I think we should use the word _celebrated_ instead."

"You know what I meant, Gordon," Vickie teased.

The Pierces were so easy to love, even if they were completely batty.

"So, back to you girls… tonight we want you to know that you're not tolerated here… you're celebrated!" Gordon cheered.

"Mazeltov!" cried Vickie.

"Can we still have sleepovers?" Brittany asked.

Santana shot Brittany an appalled look.

"Absolutely!" said Vickie, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Gordon and I think exploration is an important part of adolescence. We wouldn't want to deprive you two of that."

Santana wanted to bury her head under the couch cushions in embarrassment.

"But we do want to make sure you're being safe," Gordon chimed in. "So we're gong to get together some resources—"

"Hush, Gordon, they don't want to talk about this now. This is their celebration!" Vickie interrupted.

"Thank you," Santana said, almost entirely for Vickie's interruption. "I'm really glad you're cool about this."

"Could not be cooler," replied Vickie.

"Cooler than this cake," agreed Gordon, taking a bite. "But Santana… how are _you_ doing with this?"

"I'm ok," Santana said quietly, giving a little shrug. "It's easier now that I have Britt. But you know… it's still high school, which sucks, gay or straight."

"And what about your family? Do they know?" asked Gordon.

There was a moment of silence while Santana deliberately chewed. The celebratory spirit flew out the window.

"Well… they do now," she answered reluctantly, raising her eyebrows at her cake.

The Pierces were quiet for once, waiting for her to continue. Brittany's eyes were wide with surprise.

"I told them tonight, too," Santana continued. "I had no idea Britt was planning to tell you tonight also."

"And?" Mrs. Pierce urged.

Santana stared down at her cake. "They kinda… um… well, they didn't really want to hear it" Santana mumbled. "They pretended I didn't say anything."

"Oh, sweetheart," Vickie cooed, wrapping her arms around Santana. "_Low see-en-toe_," Vickie always tried to use Spanish with Santana, but her accent always made it sound funny. "Don't you pay them any mind. They'll come around."

"I don't know about that," Santana muttered.

Brittany got up and moved next to Santana and took her hand. Even though Santana knew Brittany was trying to comfort her, she cringed. They had never held hands in front of adults before. It felt odd, like she was doing something wrong. But when she saw Gordon and Vickie catch each other's eye, looking at their clasped hands and smiling, she decided it was probably okay.

"Give it time," reassured Gordon. "No one could look at you two and say there's anything there that isn't beautiful."

Santana took a breath. She squeezed Brittany's hand again and looked her in the eye. Brittany's eyes shone with certainty.

"I hope you're right," Santana said.

"Well, in the meantime you can come here whenever you need a little celebration," said Gordon.

"The Pierce house is always a celebration," said Santana with a smile, trying to keep the mood light. But inside, she was crushed. Sure, the Pierce family response may have been over the top, but it was certainly preferable to the stony silence she had received at home. Why couldn't her parents have reacted like _this_?


	24. Mirrorball

**Chapter 24: Mirrorball**

Chapter title taken from "Mirrorball," an album by Sarah McLachlan.

A/N: The gardenia? Pure coincidence! I plotted and wrote this before the Prom episode aired. My date gave me a gardenia for my Junior Prom, and to this day (eight years later), I think of my Prom when I smell gardenias. Happy memories!

* * *

><p>Santana bent over her vanity table to look in the mirror as she put her lipstick on. She rubbed her lips together and examined how the rouge spread evenly. She pulled her lips back to make sure there was none on her teeth as she took a step back and smoothed her palms down the front of her dress. Her dress was a deep eggplant purple, floor-length, made of shimmering satin that draped over her chest and clung loosely to her curves. Her dark hair hung in loose ringlets, framing her face and falling over her shoulders<p>

They had decided to surprise each other with their Prom dresses this year. Last year had been a surprise too, but last year had been completely different. They hadn't even been on speaking terms during the weeks around Prom. This year felt like a different lifetime. Even though they had decided to surprise each other, Santana had snuck a peak in Brittany's closet when Brittany was downstairs feeding Charity one morning. She had to bite down a smile over the flutter of her heart when she saw Brittany's dress: pale pink and strapless with a white satin ribbon around the waist and a hint of petticoat showing around the knees. She imagined Brittany getting ready now and just how perfect the dress would look on her; it would make the pink of her cheeks and lips stand out. Santana wasn't sure she'd be able to keep from kissing her silly the entire night.

Santana drove to Brittany's house, and after saying a quick hello to their friends gathering on the porch, walked up the stairs and knocked on Brittany's bedroom door. When Brittany invited her in, she opened the door. She saw Brittany in the mirror first before Brittany turned around to smile and look at Santana's dress.

"Oh, S…" Brittany breathed. "It's perfect."

Santana smiled and walked toward Brittany.

"You look beautiful, B," she said, brushing Brittany's arm with her hand as she looked at Brittany's dress. "The color is perfect on you."

"Thanks," said Brittany, blushing a bit.

Santana thought it was funny she could still make Brittany blush. A compliment between them was as normal as air. But Brittany definitely still gave her butterflies, so she supposed she understood. She kissed Brittany gently. "I'm going to have the prettiest date there," she said, pulling away with a smile.

"No," said Brittany, shaking her head with a smile, "I will."

Santana grinned wider. "Nope," she argued back. "I win."

"Agree to disagree," offered Brittany, touching Santana's hair softly.

Santana chuckled. "Our friends are waiting downstairs," she said, stepping back and picking up Brittany's purse, tucking it under her arm next to her own. "And I think your parents want to take enough pictures to fill up an entire hard drive." They walked downstairs into the entryway.

"Wait!" Brittany cried as they were about to open the front door. "You're missing something."

"What?" Santana asked. She had her date, her purse, her date's purse and her ticket; what else did she need?

Brittany darted into the kitchen and came back with a gardenia in her palm. Santana eyed it with uncertainty as Brittany held it out to her. "This smelled really good, so I got it for you."

Santana melted a little. "Aw, Britt, that's so sweet." She bent to smell the flower. "Whoa, it does smell amazing. I um… I'm sorry I didn't get you anything. I… I didn't know what the rules were."

"That's okay," Brittany shrugged with a smile. "I can just stay next to you all night and it'll be like sharing one."

Santana nodded picked up the gardenia gingerly, seeing it had no pin or wristband. She looked down at her dress, trying to figure out what to do with it. Brittany took the flower back from Santana and lifted it to Santana's hair, slipping the short stem into one of the bobby pins nestled in her curls.

"There," Brittany said. She patted the flower and gazed into Santana's eyes and time seemed to slow down as Brittany whispered, "You take my breath away."

As Brittany looked at her, part of Santana just wanted to have the night alone together. She felt her heart flutter as she leaned forward to kiss Brittany just lightly enough that their lipstick wouldn't smear.

"Are you ready?" Brittany asked with a grin after a moment, taking her purse from Santana.

"Bring it on," said Santana, taking a deep breath. Brittany reached from the door handle and the girls walked onto the patio where their friends were waiting to pose for pictures.

* * *

><p>The disco ball overhead cast shimmering lights over the dancing crowd of teenagers as Santana and Brittany danced with their friends, smiles never bigger. The bass throbbed as the night wore on. Everyone was getting tired, but no one wanted to stop dancing. Finally, the tempo slowed down and the lights were lowered. The group looked around at each other, some nervously, some happily as they paired off for the first slow dance.<p>

Santana glanced at Brittany. She knew this was coming, but that didn't make it any less nerve-wracking. Of course Brittany would want to dance with her. She wanted to dance with Brittany, too… just on a deserted dance floor. Brittany reached for her hand, slowly pulling her in.

"It's okay," Brittany whispered into Santana's ear. "Everyone else is looking at the person they're dancing with."

Santana nodded, reaching up tentatively to wrap her arms around Brittany's neck. Perhaps she could just bury her head into Brittany's shoulder and pretend they were really alone on the dance floor.

"Aren't you glad I didn't wear super-high heels?" Brittany murmured, trying to get Santana to relax.

Santana stepped closer into Brittany with a smile. She snuggled onto Brittany's shoulder, turning her head outward as she heard Brittany breathe in the smell of the gardenia in her hair. She glanced across the dance floor at all the other couples. Some looked happy, some looked awkward, and one boy looked particularly miserable as he danced with his equally miserable date. Almost everyone was coupled off. Brittany had been right; everyone was looking at their dance partner or their feet.

And then she saw Azimio, leaning against the wall across the room, glaring at her and Brittany. He began walking onto the dance floor. Santana's heart fluttered in fright and her limbs went rigid. Santana wasn't the only one who saw him; Rachel, ever aware of her surroundings, urgently muttered to Finn and Mercedes. Finn tapped Puck and Mike on the shoulder, tilting his head towards Santana and Brittany with wide eyes. The boys pulled their dates closer to Santana and Brittany, brushing against them. At this point, Brittany realized something odd was going on and loosened her grasp around Santana's waist; their friends were standing too close to them, yet still maintaining some charade of dancing with their dates. Rachel corralled Kurt and Blaine over and pushed them towards Santana and Brittany, so close their elbows were crashing into each other. Santana looked around in confusion for several moments, clinging to Brittany. Then she realized what was happening; their friends had formed a protective ring around the two gay couples on the dance floor. As Azimio approached, Puck, Finn and Lauren broke away from their dance partners and glared at him.

"Can we help you with something, Azimio?" Finn asked in rough voice.

"Because right now we're busy dancing with our dates," Puck chimed in. "We suggest you find someone to dance with or get off the dance floor."

Azimio narrowed his eyes at Santana, Brittany, Kurt and Blaine. "What are _they_ doing here?" he sneered.

"They're _dancing_," Finn spat. "They have every right to be here."

"You know, I'm not sure he heard you, Puck," Lauren offered, taking a few steps toward Azimio. "Azimio, I believe we made it explicitly clear that _unless_ find yourself a dance partner, which at this point I find _highly_ unlikely, you'd best be on your way." She puffed her chest up in her most menacing stance.

Azimio looked at her for a minute, then snorted and stalked off in the other direction.

Rachel gave a satisfied nod to Finn and Puck. The tight circle around Santana, Brittany, Kurt and Blaine dispersed. Santana and Brittany hadn't moved the whole time; they still stood with their arms around each other in the center of the dance floor. They looked around at all their friends who were dancing as if nothing had happened.

"Did that really just happen?" Santana asked, looking around, stunned.

"I think so," said Brittany, equally surprised. "We have the best friends ever," she declared.

Santana nodded in agreement, still glancing around. Brittany must have seen the panic in Santana's face. She drew Santana closer, holding her firmly. At the gesture Santana brought her attention back to Brittany, perching her head back on Brittany's shoulder.

"You okay?" Santana murmured into Brittany's ear. She knew Brittany was okay; it was _she _who felt uneasy. Brittany nodded into Santana's hair. "We could leave if you want…" Santana suggested.

Brittany countered Santana's anxiety with her own confidence. "I want to stay. Finn's right, we have every right to be here," she said.

Santana nodded, willing herself to believe it. But she still felt an icy, achy tension in her body.

"Close your eyes," Brittany murmured into Santana's ear. "Pretend we're the only people on the dance floor."

Santana closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. What she breathed in were familiar and soothing smells; Brittany's skin, the smell of hair spray and lipstick, and the intoxicating scent of the gardenia in her hair. She felt a little calmer.

"It's just me and you," Brittany reassured, giving Santana's waist a squeeze.

"Me and you…" Santana breathed.

She pictured the dance floor from the view of the disco ball above; a sea of slowly swaying McKinley students bathed in the lights dancing off the mirrors. In her mind, she watched as the other students gradually dissolved. Now all she could see were two people; a girl in a pink dress dancing with a girl in a dark purple dress. She smiled and felt her cheek scrunch against Brittany's shoulder, bringing her awareness back down into her body from where it had been at the vantage point of the disco ball. Now she was _in_ the vision she had seen; she was alone on the dance floor, dancing with the most important person in her world. The night was perfect, and she never wanted it to end.


	25. Time After Time

**Chapter 25: Time After Time**

Chapter Title Song: "Time After Time" by Cyndi Lauper. I prefer the Eva Cassidy version – it's a good soundtrack for this chapter.

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><p>"Bye, guys! Get home safe!" Brittany ducked to look through the window of the limo after they had climbed out.<p>

"G'night!" Santana called, waving as the limo pulled away. They watched the limo round the corner and together they sighed. It had turned out to be a great night. Santana took Brittany's hand as they walked up the walkway to the Pierce house. After a night of loud music and throngs of McKinley students dancing, the quiet stillness around them seemed sudden, but welcome.

"You're staying over, right?" Brittany asked.

"Uh, huh," Santana smiled, squeezing Brittany's hand.

"Good. 'Cuz my parents left for the night…" Brittany grinned as she unlocked the front door.

"Why?" asked Santana, giving Brittany a curious frown.

"Because they said they wanted to make sure there was a place for the after party."

Santana shook her head in disbelief. The wackiness of the Pierces never ceased to amaze her.

"But I didn't invite anyone over," Brittany said.

"Why not, Britt? We could have had the best party _ever_ here," Santana said.

"I wanted you all to myself," Brittany said in a quiet voice as she closed the door behind Santana.

"_Oh_," said Santana with a grin.

"It's Prom night, after all…" Brittany took Santana's purse from her and placed it on the table in the hallway with her own.

"What about Hayley?" Santana asked, eying the stairs. She had been extremely cautious since their near-miss with her parents at Christmas.

"Friend's house…" Brittany murmured, pulling Santana in for a kiss.

Santana relaxed as Brittany pushed her gently toward the stairs, breaking away so they could walk up, leading Santana by the hand. They got to the landing and Brittany pulled Santana close again for another kiss that just couldn't wait. It was a relief to be openly affectionate after having been so vigilant with their gestures towards each other all night. Even if they had danced together, kissing was different.

"So what is it tonight, Britt? Handcuffs? Whipped cream? Nurse and patient?" Santana asked, eyebrow raised.

Brittany smiled softly at Santana. Santana was always up for anything she suggested. "No" Brittany murmured, shaking her head and looking lovingly into Santana's eyes, "Just you…" she placed the softest of kisses on Santana's cheek, "…and me…" she kissed the other cheek, "…in a bed…" she kissed Santana's lips, "…just like that night in Columbus."

Santana exhaled and pressed her lips against Brittany's again. She rested her forehead against Brittany's as she squeezed her gently. "Perfect."

Brittany led Santana into her bedroom, not bothering to turn on the lights. She slipped off her shoes and Santana went to do the same, although the straps on Santana's heels took a bit more coercing. While Santana fidgeted with the tiny buckles, Brittany lit a candle on her bedside table. It shimmered softly, casting a dancing glow over the room. Santana stood up when she was finally free of her shoes. She looked at Brittany in her prom dress, sitting on the edge of her bed, bare feet, smile gentle but wide. Santana stepped toward her as if in a trance.

"Beautiful," Brittany murmured.

Santana suddenly felt shy as she stood before Brittany, becoming aware of her breathing. Brittany offered Santana her hand and Santana took it gingerly. Brittany reached for her other hand. She gazed up at Santana, the gentlest of smiles gracing her lips. Santana knelt before Brittany, their eyes almost level, their hands resting on Brittany's knees. The light dancing on Brittany's face was the most peaceful thing Santana had seen in a long time.

"Thank you for tonight," Brittany said so softly it was almost a whisper. "It was perfect."

Santana gazed into Brittany's bright eyes. Even after all these months, tonight she was still in disbelief that the beauty before her, the beauty she knew so well, was hers. She felt a flicker of fear that things would change.

"If you had told me last year we'd go to Prom together this year, I wouldn't have believed you," Santana said earnestly.

"Me neither," said Brittany, returning Santana's gaze and squeezing their hands.

Santana felt the familiar hardness of the promise ring on Brittany's finger between her own and looked down at it. It wasn't an engagement ring, but it held a firm promise and all the wishes in the world. Santana was pretty sure Brittany knew that, but she wanted to be sure. "I know where I'll be next year, though."

Brittany tilted her head. "But we haven't heard about colleges yet…"

"I know," said Santana, turning the ring around Brittany's finger. "But I'll still be with you," she said quietly, still looking at their hands. "Even if we're far apart."

Brittany's face grew sad. "Don't talk about being apart, S," she pleaded. "It makes me so sad."

Santana's heart ached when she realized her plan had backfired. She wanted to give Brittany all the reassurance in the world. She cupped Brittany's chin and gave her the most confident look she could muster. "We have no reason to be sad, Britt. Not tonight," she said. She leaned in and kissed Brittany ever so gently on her parted lips. She pulled away, feeling their soft breath on each other's faces. "Think about all the amazing things we have together."

"But everything will change soon," said Brittany, looking away.

"Maybe," Santana admitted, a hint of sadness creeping into her voice. "But we won't."

"What if we do?" Brittany asked worriedly.

Santana saw fragility in Brittany's eyes; not fragility in Brittany herself, but in her faith that they would be okay.

"All relationships change," Santana soothed. "But I can't imagine growing apart."

Brittany ran her hand up Santana's back to her shoulder, coming to rest in the dark curls cascading over Santana's collarbone. "I could never grow apart from you," Brittany murmured.

Santana felt her heart swell; she felt exactly the same way. Tomorrow would come with all its uncertainties, but tonight, and tomorrow, and every day after that, they would have each other.

Brittany gently grasped Santana's neck and pulled her forward, leaning down so their torsos pressed together. Their lips met slowly, smoldering, wet and soft. Everything about their embrace was gentle; their clasped hands on Brittany's knee, Brittany's hand on Santana's neck, Santana's hand on Brittany's shoulder. Their lips slid together, as if in time with an impossibly slow waltz. Just like on the dance floor, outside their lips and arms and hearts, nothing else mattered.

Santana rose from her knees, bending over as she pressed Brittany backwards toward the sheets. Brittany reached behind Santana, taking the zipper of the dress between her fingers. After sliding it down, Brittany slipped her hand into the opening of the dress, feeling Santana's warm skin under the fabric. Santana reached under Brittany's arm to the side zipper of her dress, pulling it down and untying the bow at the waist. She placed her hands gently on Brittany's hips, their lips still dancing as Brittany stood up from the bed, rising up to Santana's height. Brittany's hands moved up to alight on Santana's shoulders, fingering the thin straps resting there. Santana lifted one hand to guide Brittany's, encouraging her as she pulled the strap down her shoulder. A moment later, Brittany's other hand pulled the other strap down. Santana pulled her arms out of the straps as the silken fabric of the dress slipped silently down, resting around her hips. She was wear a black strapless bra with a single rhinestone sewn between the cups. Brittany ran her hands around the bare skin of Santana's waist, making Santana tingle up to her shoulders. Brittany ran her hands up gently over the bra, bringing her mouth down to kiss Santana's neck.

"You're so beautiful," Brittany murmured against her pulse point. "I felt like I was dancing with an angel tonight."

Santana leaned into Brittany's neck, brushing her lips against it and breathing in the smell of her skin. "Tonight didn't feel real," said Santana breathlessly. "I'm just… so _lucky_," she exhaled.

Santana slipped one hand through the open zipper at Brittany's side, holding the small of her back under the dress. Brittany took a small step back and pulled on the skirt of her own dress, causing it to flutter to the floor, tulle petticoat spread around her feet, bodice standing upright around her ankles. Santana pressed into Brittany's bare breasts, wrapping her arms around Brittany's neck, kissing her deeply as Brittany stepped out of her dress and brushed it aside with her bare foot. If Santana had felt warm before, she felt even warmer now that their skin was touching. Every time she held Brittany it felt better than the last. Every time she felt closer, like part of her was bigger and able to hold more of Brittany to her than ever before.

Brittany tucked her fingers into the material resting on Santana's hips, and with very little coercion, Santana's dress slipped down and pooled around her ankles. Santana took a step forward, pressing the back of Brittany's knees against the bed, forcing her to lean back. They broke their kiss as Brittany sat and scooted herself back onto the bed, looking up at Santana. Santana followed her, crawling over Brittany until Brittany's head came to rest on the pillow, where Santana reunited their lips. Santana's curls spilled around their faces and tickled Brittany's cheeks as Brittany unclasped Santana's bra, dropping it onto the floor. Santana had come to absolutely revel in being naked with Brittany; it wasn't something to be feared or think to much about; it was simply meant to be felt, to bask in the warmth of touching and being touched. And Brittany touched her heart most of all.

Brittany's hands fluttered up and down Santana's sides as Santana lowered her hips onto Brittany's. They both exhaled as they felt the warmth of their stomachs and breasts pressed together. Brittany cupped Santana's cheek and broke from their kiss, gazing up at Santana.

"What?" asked Santana in a whisper, responding to the longing look on Brittany's face.

"Let's get under the covers," Brittany whispered tenderly.

Santana nodded, lifting herself off Brittany. Brittany maneuvered herself so she could lift the blankets, then slid down to where she had previously been lying, holding the covers open for Santana to climb in beside her.

Santana slipped in next to Brittany so they were lying side by side, their arms wrapping around each other, legs tangling. Their lips met as though returning to a beloved sanctuary. Brittany pushed down the lace at Santana's hip, and Santana slid her panties down to the base of the bed with her feet, lost under the covers until the morning. Santana hooked her finger into Brittany's panties, and soon they joined Santana's at the girls' feet. Brittany brought her hand to rest on Santana's bare hip, gripping it as she inhaled through her nose. Brittany broke away from their kiss, resting her head on the pillow. She looked at Santana in awe.

"I love you so much it scares me," Brittany whispered almost inaudibly. Brittany looked into Santana's eyes, letting Santana see the fear she spoke of. This was a side of Brittany no one else knew, only Santana. Although Brittany was so open and loving with everyone she met, there were still secret parts of her. Santana had been overjoyed to discover that Brittany had fears too. It made her heart feel full that Brittany let her see when she was scared, and somewhere along the way, it made Santana less scared too.

Santana leaned toward Brittany to kiss her trembling lips. "Don't be scared, Britt," she murmured, her breathe warm against Brittany's face. "We're safe." Brittany took a deep breath as Santana brushed Brittany's bangs out of her eyes. "We're safe together," Santana whispered.

When Brittany saw that Santana gazed back at her with serenity and unconditional love, Brittany nodded, letting herself fall deeper. She brought her hand up to Santana's cheek and reunited their kiss, a hint of desperation laced between their lips. Brittany pressed her hips into Santana and Santana rocked back, wanting to feel as close to her as she possibly could. They began to rock slowly against each other, sliding hands and kisses along each other's skin cursively. The extra warmth of the covers made them feel impossibly intertwined; the thin layer of sweat on their skin and the moisture from their centers was trapped under the sheets, making it seem as though they were melting together.

Santana knew Brittany felt vulnerable tonight, so she waited for Brittany to initiate everything about their lovemaking. When at last Santana felt Brittany's fingers slide into the wetness between her legs, she gasped, marveling at Brittany's power to take her breath away with a single touch, even after all these months. As Brittany's fingers slid up and down, applying more pressure, Santana's breathing quickly became erratic.

"Feels so good, Britt…" Santana whispered between breaths, her eyes shut in rapture. Brittany kissed her neck, slowing her hand for a moment before continuing to rub lazy circles through Santana's folds.

"I love touching you," Brittany whispered against Santana's neck, causing the skin to prickle at the warm breath. "And I love when you touch me."

Santana understood that this was permission as well as a request, and slid her hand up Brittany's thigh, slowing before she dipped into Brittany's sex. Brittany exhaled at the sensation, head tipping back slightly as she continued to rub Santana.

Their breath was ragged against each others' faces as their hands became more urgent, wrists gently bumping against each other as they wound their way towards release. Santana gasped when she felt Brittany's finger slide inside her, making her skin sing electric from head to toe. She slid a finger into Brittany, hearing an appreciative wince as she did. As their fingers slid in and out of each other, their whimpers and moans conversed in the still air of the quiet bedroom, dancing with the candlelight. As Brittany slipped a second finger inside her, Santana's eyes flew open, meeting a pleading expression on Brittany's face. Santana slid a second finger inside Brittany, causing her eyes to widen and a high-pitched grunt to tremble from her lips. Santana kissed Brittany urgently before pulling her head back to watch the mounting desperation in Brittany's eyes. Santana was sure hers reflected the same. She brushed her thumb against Brittany's clit and let out a moan as Brittany mirrored her. Santana curled her fingers and pressed them up, seconds later feeling Brittany's inner walls crush them together as her body stiffened. As she came, Brittany curled her fingers up into Santana, pushing Santana's body to convulse against her rigid one. Santana grit her teeth as she curled into Brittany, pressing their foreheads together as she was wracked by her release. She pumped her fingers a few times, feeling Brittany clench down harder, causing her own muscles to grip harder still. They felt suspended in time, at a loss for how long they hung in midair together.

When they were able to breathe again, their gasps fell on each other's faces and collarbones, mixing with the sweat already prickling there. Still rising and falling rapidly, their shoulders relaxed. They pulled their fingers from each other's centers at the same time, sliding their hands around each others' waist, pulling their torsos together as they came down. Finally their breathing slowed, and they smiled as they closed their eyes. They lay there for a few minutes breathing together, holding each other, feeling their heartbeats calm.

As if on cue, they opened their eyes at the same time, smiling peacefully at each other, satisfied and triumphant they had climaxed at the same time. It wasn't something that happened often, but when it did, the connection they felt to each other was powerful and limitless.

"That felt just like the first time," Brittany murmured sleepily, her eyes shining.

Santana smiled drowsily back. "With you, in some way it's always like the first time." She pulled the covers up as she snuggled into Brittany's neck as Brittany sighed in content, kissing Santana's head and smelling the gardenia that still rested there. As the candlelight danced over them, they closed their eyes and drifted into a blissful sleep.


	26. Harder to Breathe

**Chapter 26: Harder to Breathe**

Chapter soundtrack song: "Harder to Breathe" by Maroon 5.

**Mad love to my new Beta, Mia!**

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><p>A week later, Brittany and Santana sat at Brittany's kitchen table, two envelopes sitting in front of them.<p>

"Open yours first, Santana," Brittany suggested, biting her nails.

"No, you first, Britt," Santana hedged, eyes flickering between the envelopes and Brittany. "That way when you get in, I'll be happy and if I don't, I won't be as sad."

"Okay, we're not playing the 'you first' game. Let's do it at the same time," Brittany determined.

They eyed the letters. They were both standard, thin, white envelopes.

"Do you think it's a bad sign they're both skinny envelopes?" Santana frowned. "If we got in, don't you think they would have sent a bunch of registration paperwork for us to fill out?"

Brittany bit her lip. "Well… if we didn't get in, at least we _both_ didn't get in?" she offered.

"Only one way to find out," Santana said with a shrug, picking up the envelope addressed to her.

Brittany picked hers up too. "One, two, three," she chanted. They tore open the letters, holding their breath as they scanned the text.

Santana began mumbling frantically, her eyes darting back and forth. "…. After reviewing your transcript and your…"

"..letters of recommendation…." Brittany joined her frantic mumbling and chanting, until together they read:

"… pleased to offer you a spot in the Boston College Class of 2016!" they ended in a shout, eyes wild with excitement, hands trembling, pulling the papers taut.

"A package containing your registration materials will be mailed to you at the end of the week!" Brittany finished.

"Britt, we're going to college together!" Santana shouted, slamming her hands down on the table and jumping up from her seat.

"Together!" Brittany echoed.

They hugged and squeezed and squealed and jumped just like they had when New Directions won Sectionals for the first time. When their feet finally settled on the ground, Brittany put her head on Santana's shoulder. "Mmm, Santana, I could never get through college without you," she murmured, giving her one last firm squeeze.

"Of course you could, Britt. It just wouldn't be as fun," Santana said as they pulled away.

"Did I just hear that my baby got into _college_?" Mrs. Pierce burst into the kitchen, arms extended towards Brittany, a huge smile plastered on her round, made-up face. Brittany gave an exaggerated, elated nod, falling into her mother's arms.

"Oooh, congratulations, Britt-Bee!" Vickie cooed, rocking her daughter back and forth, hand on her daughter's head. Santana watched them with a smile. The Pierces were such warm people.

Vickie looked up at Santana. "Get your behind over here too, Santana," she said, beckoning with her hand. Santana joined Brittany in Vickie's arms, allowing herself to be rocked back and forth.

"I am so proud of _both_ my girls," Vickie murmured.

Santana set her head on Vickie's shoulder and met Brittany's eyes, resting above Vickie's other shoulder. _Both her girls_, Santana thought to herself, and she felt something flicker warm in her ribcage. They smiled at each other, glowing with contentment and relief that they would be spending the next four years just as they had spent the last eight months

* * *

><p>Santana picked through her Chinese takeout, annoyed that she was once again being forced through the pretense of having "family dinner" when all her parents ever did was sit and read.<p>

"So Santana, now that you're into college, what will you do until August?" asked Antonio. Santana was pretty sure he wasn't actually that interested in hearing Santana's answer.

"Hopefully not much," she shrugged.

"How is that singing group going?" Antonio asked without glancing up from his journal article.

"Glee Club? It's _great_. We've been rehearsing nonstop for Nationals, which is in a few weeks. Everyone's really excited."

Antonio and Dolores nodded disinterestedly over their plates.

Santana was frustrated by their feigned interest in her life. If she was going to be forced to sit and have dinner with them, they could act like they cared. She wanted to do something to shake them awake.

"I'm really excited about the GSA, too," Santana tested. "It's been great to have all that support."

"What's a GSA?" Antonio asked, taking a sip of water.

"The club I told you about a few weeks ago. The club for gay and lesbian students and their friends. The one Brittany and I started." Santana had no idea where this boldness was coming from, but there was something in her gut forcing her words out that she couldn't control.

"Why do those people need their own club?" Dolores criticized. "Don't they just want to be treated like _normal _people?"

Santana burned. _Those_ People. _Normal_ People.

"Well, actually, _we_ meet and talk about how we can educate people and promote understanding. And how to deal with family stuff."

"If the families had done their job right, those people wouldn't have ended up like that in the first place," Dolores informed her beef and broccoli.

"_We,_Ma._We_ were born gay and it has nothing to do with our families."

"You're not gay, Santana," Dolores said decisively. "This phase will pass. You should spend more time with that nice boy you were seeing. What's his name again?"

"_Puck_?" Santana sneered.

"Yes, him. I always liked him," Dolores nodded. "Nice boy."

"You met him _once_, mom, when he came by to pick up his belt after he left it here the night before. And that _'nice boy '_got my friend pregnant behind his best friend's back. _And_ he was arrested for stealing an ATM."

"Well, you know boys…" Dolores dismissed.

"_Really_, Ma? You want me to spend time with someone like Puck because you think it will make me less gay?" Santana challenged, her tone icy and critical.

"But Santana, _querida_, you're _not_ gay," Dolores insisted.

"Oh, _really_," Santana scoffed. "How do _you_ know?"

"Because you are too pretty," Dolores said, waving her hand. "You have no trouble finding boys."

"Yeah, I know, Ma, I have no trouble. The problem is I have no desire. I'm in love with Brittany and _she's_ the one I want," Santana said with indignation. "We went to Prom together as a _couple_."

"Santana, everyone feels very close to their girlfriends. Brittany is a good girl. I'm sure _she_ understands your friendship. You're lucky she doesn't run away from all this nonsense."

"No, Ma, she's not just a good friend! I _love_ her. I love holding her hand and going on dates and kissing her and sleeping in her bed all things other couples do," Santana curled, her fists balled up at her sides. "And you know what? She likes those things _too_!" she spat.

"Ay, I said before, Santana, no me diga!"

"You're a bigot!" Santana yelled as she stood up from the table.

"Ay, ¿qué hice para merecer esto?" Dolores sighed, glancing upwards.

"Please, Santana, sit down," her fathered murmured.

"No! Why would I want to sit and pretend to have a nice family dinner when Mom won't even entertain the idea that _maybe_ I know what I'm talking about when it comes to my own feelings!" Santana ranted.

Antonio didn't respond.

"And you!" Santana turned on him, "You just sit there and listen to all the awful things she's saying to me and pretend that your stupid journal article is more important. Well this, just, in, dad, it's _not_!"

"Don't speak to us that way, Santana," Antonio said softly.

"Tell _her_ that!" Santana shook, tears welling up. "She's the one telling me who I am!"

"Santana!" Dolores scolded. "This is _inappropriate_ for the dinner table. _Sit_ down. No more of this nonsense."

Santana felt something in her ribcage again, but this time it wasn't a warm flutter, but a conflagration that threatened to overtake her body at any second. Santana looked at her mother, her chest heaving. "I _hate_ you!" she screamed.

Santana stormed out of the house, her vision blurred with tears and her chest constricted with rage. Realizing she didn't have her keys, she simply ran the mile and a half to Brittany's house.

* * *

><p>Santana knocked on the Pierce door in desperation. She gasped in relief when Brittany answered.<p>

"Santana! Hey – what – baby?" Brittany's face flashed into four different expressions within two seconds of opening the door.

Santana knew she must look awful, hair wild and windblown, cheeks streaked with tears, sweaty and panting from the run. But she didn't care. She fell onto Brittany, who held her firmly as she shook with sobs.

"Baby, _what_ happened?" Brittany asked.

"I hate her!" Santana cried. "I hate her _so_ much!"

"Who?" asked Brittany, smoothing Santana's hair.

"My mom!" sobbed Santana. "She's such a monster!"

Brittany didn't say anything, just kept smoothing Santana's hair and holding her. She made some soft hushing noises into Santana's ear. "It's okay, baby. It's okay."

Santana pulled away, wiping her face. She took a few shaky breaths. "It's _not_ okay, Britt. She kept calling us 'those' people and she told me I didn't know what I was talking about. She's a horrible bigot and I hope she rots in _hell_."

Brittany held Santana's shoulders for a moment before speaking. "Santana, you don't mean that. You don't want your mom to rot in hell."

Santana sighed shakily. "No," she admitted. "I'm just really, really angry."

Brittany looked at her and nodded. "You're allowed to be really, really angry. Come inside." Brittany put her arm around Santana, ushered her through the door and walked her to her bedroom.

Brittany closed her bedroom door as she led Santana over to the bed and sat her down on the edge. She knelt and took off Santana's shoes, setting them next to each other by the nightstand. She picked up her hairbrush and crawled onto the bed, sitting behind Santana. She brushed the wildness out of Santana's hair, listening as Santana's sniffles died down. When she had finished, she put down the brush and scooted forward, placing one leg on each side of Santana so they hung off the bed. She wrapped her arms around Santana's torso and rested her chin on her shoulder.

"I wish they could be happy for me," Santana choked, her voice squeaking as new tears came to the surface.

"They will be someday, Santana. They will," Brittany hummed

Santana shook her head, disbelieving as she wiped her cheek.

"I know it hurts, baby," Brittany said.

That made Santana flare up a bit. There was no way Brittany knew how much she was hurting. "_Do_ you, Britt?" she asked coldly. "Because I never saw you hurt this bad when you told _your_ family."

Brittany was quiet for a moment. "Don't be afraid, sweetheart," she murmured. "You're safe here. My parents think of you as one of their own."

Santana sighed. "That's great and all, but you came out to your family and practically got a parade… I just got a big plate of_ shut the fuck up_. It _sucks_."

She felt Brittany's arms twist a little around her waist and felt guilty. She took a breath, slowing down. She was attacking the one person who hadn't done anything wrong. "I'm sorry, Britt," she mumbled. "I don't want to be mad at you for having an awesome family. I love them too. But it's hard not to be a little jealous sometimes."

Brittany held Santana tighter. Seconds passed.

"What are you thinking?" Santana asked. She was worried she had hurt Brittany's feelings.

Brittany smiled into Santana's hair. "That you've gotten really good at talking about feelings," she said.

Santana let out a sad chuckle, feeling some tension in her chest release. "Yeah," she said, still a little shaky, but smiling. "It must be from hanging out with those wacky Pierces." She leaned back, tilting her head onto her girlfriend's shoulder. Brittany squeezed her tightly as she nuzzled into Santana's neck. After a few minutes, Santana exhaled and felt the fire in her chest extinguish.


	27. National Anthem

**Chapter 27: National Anthem**

**Thank you to Mia for her fine editing and encouragement!**

Time: May 2012

* * *

><p>Santana opened her locker, frowning into the abyss of papers and notebooks. She was sure she had owned a math textbook at some point, but its precise location was now unknown, and was frankly unimportant since she had gotten into college. "Sorry Quinn, I don't know where it is," she dismissed.<p>

"That's fine," Quinn huffed. "Guess I'll have to borrow Rachel's again."

"Bummer." Santana wrinkled her nose and crossed her arms. "Maybe you should have bought your own this year."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "See you at Glee Club," she snipped, turning to walk down the hall. "Don't forget we're staying late today!" she tossed over her shoulder.

Santana heard the locker behind her open as she felt a small swat on her ass. She hopped forward an inch before turning around to smile at Brittany.

"Hey baby!" Brittany grinned. "Want to go get some Dots?"

Santana didn't like Dots, but she had no objection to going to the cafeteria for a snack. "Sure," she said as she closed her locker. Brittany put her notebook in her locker and shut it. She held the straps of her backpack as they walked toward the cafeteria.

"So I was going through the registration packet last night," Brittany began.

"Oh yeah?" Santana responded. "I haven't gone through those yet."

"I got through everything except the housing forms. I didn't know what to put down."

"For what?"

"For my preferences in a room mate. They ask questions like, 'Do you listen to music while you study?' and 'How clean do you keep your room?' and 'Are you a bisexual Wiccan priestess who only eats vegan food?'"

"They _ask_ that?" Santana gasped.

Brittany shot her a look.

"So what did you put?" Santana asked.

"I just left it blank because they didn't have the option I wanted."

"What do you mean?"

"There was no box for 'beautiful, smart, sexy girl I'm in love with,'" Brittany said, glancing sideways at Santana.

Santana felt a flutter in her stomach and looked sideways back at Brittany. "You… want to live together?" she asked, quiet and hopeful, but also a little shy.

"I was thinking about it," Brittany admitted with a little smile.

Santana stopped walking and turned to face Brittany. "Can we do that?" she asked earnestly.

"Yeah, on the form there's a place you can request someone," Brittany shrugged.

"No, I mean, are we ready to live together?"

Brittany shrugged. "We always study together. Your mess doesn't bother me. We sleep in the same bed whenever we can and half your clothes are in my closet anyway."

"That's true… what if we get sick of each other?" Santana asked.

Brittany tilted her head and gave Santana a '_yeah right'_ look. "Then we can go to the library or put on headphones," she shrugged.

Santana only had to think for a moment before she knew in her gut she absolutely wanted to live with Brittany. Her head gave her flimsy excuses not to, but the '_what ifs'_ and the '_maybe nots'_ stood no chance against her heart.

"Okay," said Santana, tugging on the straps of her backpack.

"You want to?" Brittany looked hopeful.

Santana grinned and nodded. "Of course, B."

"Yay!" Brittany cried, clapping her hands. "It'll be like a never-ending sleepover." She reached to hug Santana.

"With lots of homework," Santana smiled into Brittany's shoulder as they embraced.

"I think we should celebrate," Brittany stated as they started walking toward the cafeteria again.

"_Two_ boxes of Dots?" Santana suggested with a grin.

"How about we pick up a to-go box of Breadstix after Glee Club?"

"You know the way to my heart, B," Santana laughed.

* * *

><p>"You really have to <em>feel<em> the words when you sing them, Santana," Rachel emphasized from her chair on the choir room risers. "You're jealous and worried that she'll leave you for a _guy_. Just _think_ what that would that be like!"

"Remind me again why you asked her to help us?" Santana frowned at Brittany.

"She'll make our number the best it can be," Brittany shrugged. "She has lots of good ideas. People just never listen to her."

"Maybe because she never stops talking," Santana muttered.

"I appreciate that, Brittany," nodded Rachel, ignoring Santana's snide remark. "So aside from the jealousy, Santana, what can you draw from the text that you might use to enhance the performance?"

"Um… that I love her?"

"Depth, Santana. Depth," Rachel chided.

"I don't know, Berry," Santana sighed. "It's about love and wanting to be around each other all the time."

"Okay, what else?" Rachel challenged. "Try speaking the text. What do you mean when you sing _'now everything is new, and everything is you, and all I've learned has overturned. I beg of you, don't go wasting your emotion, lay all your love on me_'?"

Santana stared blankly back at Rachel.

Brittany piped up. "It's about feeling so in love with someone that you're scared, because it's not like anything else you've ever experienced."

Santana looked at Brittany. "Yeah," she agreed, "what Britt said."

"Very nice, Brittany," Rachel applauded. "Let's do _your_ verse. Try speaking it."

"Mine's easy," said Brittany, "Although I really don't like the first line, 'it was like shooting a sitting duck.' That doesn't make any sense. Santana's not a duck. Why would they write that?"

Santana saw that faint glimmer in Brittany's eye that meant she was kidding, but Rachel didn't.

"It's a figure of speech," Rachel clarified, "it just means it was very easy to get her fall in love with you."

"Well it was," Brittany agreed with cheeky smile, and Santana felt her face grow warm. "The rest of my verse just talks about feeling vulnerable and wanting to be close," Brittany finished.

"Spotless interpretation," Rachel praised. "Santana, any thoughts?"

"I think maybe we should work on the choreography," Santana deflected. Discussing vulnerability with Berry didn't sound like a fun way to spend her Friday evening.

"Not yet," said Rachel. "You've got another verse."

"Besides, the choreography is easy," Brittany agreed, "it's just like what you did during _Valerie_, except there's two of us dancing back and forth, and no Mike Chang."

"Speak the text, Santana" Rachel insisted.

Santana sighed and rolled her eyes before looking at the sheet music. "I've had a few little love affairs; they didn't last very long and they've been pretty scarce. I used to think that was sensible, which makes the truth even more incomprehensible; because everything is new, and everything is you." She looked up from the paper at Brittany. "It's actually pretty easy to understand," she admitted with a shrug. "I'm singing about being confused and surprised by who I fall in love with."

"Brava!" cheered Rachel. "Now can you act that out while you sing to each other?"

Brittany and Santana grinned at each other. "I think we can manage that," Santana smirked.

"From the top!" cheered Rachel.

* * *

><p>Brittany and Santana waited in the wings on opposite sides of the stage. Santana looked at Brittany, holding a hand over her heart as it pounded. She saw Brittany pull the collar of her dress aside, pulling out her bra strap. Although Santana couldn't make it out in the dark wings, she was sure Brittany was showing her the earring they had found in Columbus last summer. She grinned and pulled aside her own collar, showing the earring's mate to Brittany. Santana gripped the microphone in her sweaty hand as their teammates sang the opening chords of the song. The tempo picked up. She took a breath. She heard their cue and stepped onto the stage. As the light hit her, she focused on Brittany's face alone as they walked towards each other, mics raised to their lips.<p>

The rest was easy. They played off each other as they sang, dancing back and forth across the stage flirtatiously. When one would walk toward, the other would back away. It was choreography they had rehearsed a hundred times. Santana really meant the words as they sang, and she was sure her smile betrayed that.

As the number came to a close, Santana looked at the audience. She saw Gordon and Vickie standing in the front row, arms held high, clapping and beaming. If her own parents weren't going to show up, Brittany's parents were the next best thing. She took Brittany's hand and raised it as they bowed. As they stood up, Santana lurched towards her, kissing her on the cheek. Brittany was caught off guard and giggled, squeezing Santana's hand. They turned around, running back up the risers to their places for the final number.

The girls stood squished next to each other on the stage with their teammates, hands clasped. They bowed their heads as the drum roll began.

"_And in first place, earning the title of National Show Choir Champions…"_

Santana gulped.

"…_from Lima, Ohio, McKinley High School's_New Directions_!"_

The theater erupted in shouts and applause. Santana's feet were glued to the floor. Her jaw dropped and her eyes were wild, thrilled. Brittany jumped up and down, squealing and squeezing the blood out of Santana's hand.

"Oh my god!" Santana cried when she was finally able to speak. "We won, Britt!"

"WE DID IT WE DID IT WE DID IT!" Brittany screamed. She jumped on Santana, wrapping her arms and legs around her, almost pulling her over. They were jostled and bumped by their teammates around them. As Brittany slid down and off Santana, Sam tapped her on the shoulder. Santana turned to look at him. _Nice work_, his eyes said as he nodded stiffly. She smiled at him before turning back to Brittany, feet leaving the floor as she jumped up and down with the rest of their team.


	28. New Slang

**Chapter 28: New Slang**

Chapter title song: "New Slang" by the Shins

* * *

><p>"Here it is, your little slice of paradise!" Vickie sang as she opened room 206 of the freshman dormitory.<p>

Brittany and Santana set down their assorted duffle bags and suitcases, surveying the room. Crammed into what seemed like ten square feet were two extra-long twin beds, two desks, two chairs, two bureaus, and a small bookcase.

"It's little, all right," Santana scoffed.

"Size doesn't matter," Brittany mused with a cheeky smile.

Santana cringed at the double entendre, thankful it went over Vickie's head.

"Where do you want these?" Vickie asked, lifting the suitcases in her hands.

"By the closet is fine. Thanks, mom."

Vickie set down the suitcases and looked around the room. "Well, I'll go look around the bookstore for a while and let you two get settled in," she said, rubbing her hands together in excitement. "Have fu-un!" she sang, letting the door shut behind her.

"Well," Santana muttered, looking around, "after coming out, I didn't think I'd ever have to live in a closet again."

"We'll make it work," Brittany smiled. "Here, I already know how we can make more space." She pulled one bed out from the wall and began pushing it toward the other.

"What are you doing?" Santana asked, wide-eyed.

"Pushing our beds together to make one big one," Brittany replied cheerfully.

"I know, but my dad will be here any minute with the rest of the bags!"

"It's not like he doesn't know," Brittany said as she pushed the beds all the way together.

"But we don't have to rub it in his face like that…" Santana argued.

Just then there was a knock at the door. Santana felt a pang of panic as it opened. A short girl with spiky black hair poked her head in. Santana sighed in relief.

"Hey, ladies!" the girl said, opening the door all the way as she swaggered in. "How's the move-in going?"

"Just starting," Brittany answered. "We got here a few minutes ago."

Santana eyed the girl, examining her baggy cargo pants and blue flannel shirt with criticism. _Gay_, her body alerted her. _Super gay_.

"Well, welcome!" the girl said. "I'm Sasha. I'm a junior and I'm your R.A."

"Hi Sasha! I'm Brittany, and this is Santana."

"Nice to meet you," greeted Sasha. She pointed to the beds pushed together and smiled. "You two must know each other already."

"Biblically!" chimed Brittany.

Santana squeezed her eyes shut for a second in embarrassment. "We, uh, went to high school together," she said.

"Nice!" cheered Sasha. "Good to have family on the floor."

"Family?" asked Brittany, brows furrowed.

"Yeah… Sapphic sisters," offered Sasha.

"My sister's name is Hayley," Brittany frowned.

"She means lesbians, Britt," Santana explained gently.

"All lesbians are _related_?" Brittany said in awe.

Santana saw the twitch in Brittany's eye that meant she was kidding. "Britt, no one here knows you're kidding when you say stuff like that," she said with an eye roll.

Brittany laughed. "I knew college would be gayer than high school."

"Certainly more open and accepting," agreed Sasha. "Well, here are your move-in checklists, and if you need me, I'll be in my room down the hall, number 214. Good luck settling in!" she said with a knowing smile as she walked out.

"Nice intro, Britt," Santana grumbled. "Are you planning on outing us to everyone we meet within ten seconds?"

"She's totally on our team!" Brittany defended.

"I know, but can we keep it cool when we first meet someone?"

"We said we weren't going to hide in college, S," Brittany whined. "No backsies."

"I'm not doing backsies… I just think maybe we shouldn't drop it on them like a bomb first thing. Maybe feel them out a while first."

Brittany looked horrified. "But I would _never_ cheat on you, Santana!" she exclaimed.

Santana was confused. She ran through her previous statement in her head, trying to figure out what could have possibly implied cheating.

"Oh, not feel them _up_, Britt. Feel them _out_."

Brittany's eyes twinkled again.

"Gah, you've gotta stop _doing_ that!" Santana said in amused exasperation. "Let's just make sure people won't start quoting bible verses at us before we out ourselves, 'kay?"

"Okay!" Brittany flopped down on the bed. Santana was about to suggest they move the bed back until her dad left when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" sang Brittany from the bed.

Santana's father jostled his way in with a set of suitcases. Santana felt flustered and gestured for Brittany to get up off the bed.

"Hey, dad," Santana said with forced cheer. "Thanks for carrying those up."

"No problem. Where would you like them?" he asked, a bit winded from climbing the stairs.

Santana surveyed the room. There was no space left on the floor. "Uhhh… on the bed – the beds - for now, I guess."

Brittany pursed her lips in amusement as she hopped off the mattress. Antonio hoisted the suitcases up onto the bed and gave them a satisfied pat. "Looks like you girls have your work cut out for you," he said, scanning the cramped quarters filled with bags and suitcases. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Could you install the curtain rod?" Brittany asked. Santana shot her a look. "Please," Brittany added, sticking her tongue out at Santana behind Antonio' back.

"Absolutely!" brightened Antonio. He picked up the curtain rod that was leaning against the wall before moving a chair over to the window to use as a ladder. Santana looked from him to the bed, surprised that he hadn't had a reaction to the setup.

There was a knock at the door.

Santana threw up her hands, convinced things couldn't get more awkward_._ "Come in!" she called.

"Hello-oo!" sang a flamboyant male voice. A tall boy with short, gelled hair poked his head in. "Just wanted to meet my neighbors!" he trilled. He walked in with the presence of a hurricane, his Bermuda-short clad hips swaying dramatically as he made his way towards Brittany. "I'm Brian," he said, offering his hand delicately.

Santana wondered if there were any straight people in college_._

Brittany smiled and shook his hand. "I'm Brittany."

"Hell-ooh, Brittany," Brian crooned. "So nice to meet you." He took a step toward Santana, shaking her hand. "Brian," he repeated.

"Santana."

"Oo, I love that name, girl. So nice to meet you."

He took a step towards Antonio. "You must be Santana's father," he said as he raised his hand so Mr. Lopez could shake it. "I'm Brian."

"Nice to meet you, Brian. I'm Antonio," Antonio said as he shook Brian's hand. He returned to installing the curtain rod. Santana was surprised her father had used his first name. She realized her father had never spent much time around anyone her age.

"Well," clucked Brian, turning back to the Brittany and Santana, "I couldn't be luckier to be living right next to two such _gorgeous_ girls. We're gonna have to start some sort of girls' night in or something. I can't wait." He walked toward the door. "I've got to get back to unpacking, but please, if you need anything – hairspray, lotion, a good laugh - come right on over!"

The whole scene was comical and humiliating to Santana. She felt she had walked into a dorm full of caricatures, and her dad was here to witness it all. She was sure he would go back to Lima and tell her mother what a terrible place college was. Then her mother would feel justified in her refusal to accompany the girls to college as they settled in.

There was another knock at the door. After Brittany's invitation, much to Santana's relief, a tall, thin, muscular girl with bright green eyes and long, light-brown hair poked her head in. She was dressed in jeans and a tank top. There was nothing cartoonish about her. "Hey!" the girl said, entering. "I'm Kelsey."

Santana decided to be nice to this seemingly normal girl. "Hi, Kelsey. I'm Santana and this is Brittany," she said, waving. She decided to pre-empt any divulgence from Brittany of their relationship. "We went to high school together."

"Oh, cool! Where are you from?"

"Lima, Ohio."

"Nice, I'm from Cleveland," replied Kelsey.

Antonio moved his chair to attach the other side of the curtain rod. Kelsey looked around.

"That's so cute, you pushed your beds together," Kelsey said.

Santana cringed that someone had verbalized the setup in front of her dad."Thanks," she said curtly. "What did you say your name was?"

"Kelsey Cooley."

"Too much alliteration," sighed Brittany, flopping onto a chair. "Kelsey Cooley from Cleveland."

Kelsey giggled. "My middle name's Katherine."

"Good thing Cooley starts with a C," commented Brittany. "That way your monogram isn't racist."

"Near miss, huh?" Kelsey giggled. "Well hey, I don't want to interrupt the unpacking, I just wanted to say hi. I live right next door with my friend Brian."

"They let you live with a boy?" asked Brittany in surprise.

"Yeah, the administration is cool like that. They figure, why not? Making people live with the same gender doesn't really accomplish much."

"Interesting…" said Santana, horrified that Kelsey was providing more ammunition for her mom's case that college is a cesspool of depravity.

"Come by any time! Our door is always open and we love visitors," said Kelsey as she turned to leave.

"Sure thing," said Brittany, smiling.

The door closed.

"She seems nice," Brittany mused.

Santana nodded, tight-lipped.

"There, I think that does it," Antonio said with a satisfied smile on his face, climbing down from the chair.

"Thanks, dad," Santana said. "Did you want to get dinner before you head back to the hotel?"

"I think I'll just grab something from the hotel salad bar on my way up to my room. I'm pretty tired from the drive," he said. His voice was always low and soft. It was hard to believe he and Santana were related; he was a truly gentle creature to everyone, while Santana was brash and brassy most of the time.

"Okay. Breakfast tomorrow before you go?" Santana asked. When she spoke to her father, she sounded softer.

"Of course, mi'ja," he nodded, giving Santana a hug. "Have fun decorating your room. Goodnight, Brittany," he waved, closing the door.

It was finally quiet in the room. They could hear bustling in the hall, but inside, it was calm. Santana locked the door.

"I need a break from visitors," she explained. She let out a long exhale as she lay on her back on the bed between the suitcases, legs hanging off.

"Up, up!" cheered Brittany. "We need to unpack and decorate!"

"Just give me one minute, Britt," Santana said, closing her eyes.

"Can I share your minute?" said Brittany.

Santana was too tired to ask what she meant, but her confusion was clarified when she felt Brittany lie on top of her, kissing her neck and ears.

Santana smiled and hummed. "You can share my minute and five more," she murmured.

"Only five?" Brittany pouted. " I was hoping to share your whole night…"

"Oh, you get my whole night, too. You get _every_ night now," Santana said, opening her eyes with a grin. She remembered what all of this was for.

Brittany sat up. "It doesn't seem real… We _live_ together!"

"You're sure you like girls, right?" Santana teased. "Cuz this could get awkward if you change your mind."

"Oh, hush!" Brittany giggled, leaning over, tickling Santana under her arms, kissing her neck. Santana wriggled and put her hands up in surrender.

"Okay, okay, let's decorate!" Santana agreed, saying anything to get Brittany to stop tickling her. She sat up and Brittany slid back up onto her feet.

"Let's make the bed first!" chirped Brittany.

"_Oh_, no," Santana said, shaking her head. "No way. If we make the bed, nothing else will get unpacked for the rest of the day. We're starting with office supplies and shoes."

Brittany pouted for a second before bouncing up and down as Santana unzipped the first suitcase.

* * *

><p>Two weeks later Santana sat on the bed, leaning against the wall as she read her political science textbook. Everything had been unpacked and put away, some things neatly by Brittany, and some things haphazardly by Santana.<p>

"Hey, baby!" Brittany sang as she breezed through the door of their room.

"Hey!" Santana looked up from her reading. Kelsey followed Brittany into their room.

"Kelsey and I have a class together!" Brittany cheered.

"Cool, what class?" asked Santana.

"Sociology of Gender and Sexuality," answered Brittany.

"It's gonna be an awesome class," Kelsey said. "The professor really knows her shit."

"Sounds cool, B," Santana smiled. She was surprised that Brittany hadn't demanded they take every class together. But Santana was relieved; she already knew what she wanted to do: Pre-Law. Brittany was seizing every opportunity to explore different subjects. Santana saw that Brittany had more energy about her since they had arrived.

"Kelsey wants me to join the track team, too," said Brittany.

"That's awesome," nodded Santana. "You should. You're a good athlete, Britt."

Brittany beamed back at Santana.

"So Britt tells me you two have a little romance going on," said Kelsey casually as she sat in a desk chair.

"I didn't say it was little," said Brittany, climbing onto the bed, sitting next to Santana. "She's my girlfriend and I love her _so much_." She accentuated the last words with two pecks on Santana's cheek. Santana grinned and blushed.

"Okay, I just might die of adorableness overload," said Kelsey. "Why didn't you guys _tell_ me?"

"Because her _dad_ was here when we met you," Brittany said in mock annoyance, placing her arm around Santana's neck.

"He knows, but it's not the most comfortable of topics," Santana explained.

"I understand," Kelsey reassured with a smile. Kelsey was warm, but not in the hyper way Gordon and Vickie were.

"I don't think your dad has a problem with it, Santana," Brittany contributed. "I think it's just your mom."

"Either way… we don't address it directly," Santana shrugged.

"Pushing your beds together first thing was a gutsy move, then," said Kelsey, eyebrows raised.

"That was all Brittany," said Santana with an affectionate shake of her head.

"So how come you guys haven't come to Collective?

"Collective?" asked Brittany and Santana together.

"It's the campus' LGBT group. Except these days it's LGBTTTQQIA. And it seems every day they add more letters. So we just call it 'The Collective' or 'Alphabet Soup.'"

"I didn't know there was a gay club here! S, it's just like the GSA you started!" Brittany said, perky as ever as she patted Santana's thigh.

"You started a GSA back in Ohio?" said Kelsey in surprise. "Rock on! I'm the co-president of the Collective," she added.

"How are you the president?" asked Santana with a frown. "Didn't you just get here?"

"Oh, I'm a sophomore! I got a crappy housing lottery number and ended up in the freshman dorms again."

"So… are you…?" asked Santana. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised there was yet _another _gay person on the hall, but she was starting to wonder what they put in the water here.

"One hundred percent gay lady," Kelsey responded.

"No way," said Santana. "I didn't get a gaydar reading on you when we met. I thought you were the only straight person we met that day."

"Psh, please. Gaydar doesn't exist," Kelsey laughed.

"Oohhh, don't tell her that!" warned Brittany, laughing. "She prides herself on it."

"Well, you should come to Collective and tell us about your gaydar theory."

"When do you meet?" asked Brittany.

"Tuesdays at eight."

"Cool, we're _so_ there," Brittany said.

"I have debate team on Tuesdays," said Santana. "But you should go, Britt."

"Don't worry, I'll get her there eventually," said Brittany with a wink at Kelsey.

"Cool," said Kelsey, standing up. "I'm gonna go take a shower before dinner. Meet you guys outside the dining hall at 5:30?"

"Sure," said Santana. She liked Kelsey.

"Awesome, see you there!"

"Bye!" called Santana. The door shut.

"You're really going to make me go to Collective?" Santana asked, raising her eyebrow.

"Not if you don't want to," Brittany shrugged. "But it sounds fun. Maybe we'll make some gay friends. That would be nice."

"We have one gay friend now," said Santana. "I dunno... I kinda want to check out Debate team."

"We don't have to do _everything_ together. You should do debate if that's what you're interested in."

Santana nodded. "Okay. I think I will." As she turned back to her textbook, she wondered why she was so averse to going to Collective with Brittany. She had started the GSA at McKinley; surely the Collective would be similar. But she didn't know anyone who would be there. Outing herself, even with Brittany, to a group of strangers seemed a little too scary in her first weeks of college. She needed to make sure she wouldn't be ostracized in the place she hoped would become her new home.

* * *

><p>"Seriously, S, Collective was awesome," Brittany said as she shoveled macaroni and cheese into her mouth a week later. The campus diner wasn't too crowded in the late evening since most students ate in the dining hall when it opened at five. "The people there know so much more than Ms. Pillsbury did. I think I learned as much in one meeting as I did the whole time I was in GSA at McKinley."<p>

"That's awesome, B. I'm glad," Santana said, taking a bite of her dinner.

"They have this thing called Speakers' Bureau where a few of the members go around to middle and high schools and give talks about what it means to be LGBT. It's such a great thing to do. I can't wait to start."

Santana stopped chewing for a moment before swallowing. "You're gonna start lecturing at schools about being gay?" she asked. She wasn't sure she liked the idea of Brittany subjecting herself to the scrutiny of a bunch of judgmental teenagers.

"Hell yeah! Imagine if we had had something like that at McKinley. It would have been so great. Maybe we wouldn't have had to deal with Azimio being a jerk or Puck being a perv or Sam being so weird about us."

"I think Sam's issues were with me, not us," Santana dismissed.

"I want you to do it with me," Brittany urged, taking another bite.

"Speakers' Bureau?" Santana asked, eyes wide.

Brittany nodded. "We can tell our story together."

"No. No way. I'm not gonna stand up and ramble on about liking girls in front of a bunch of mouth-breathing jocks and stuck-up cheerleaders."

"What about the other kids? You know, people like us?"

Santana felt a twinge of guilt, but she couldn't fathom doing what Brittany was suggesting. The words came out before she knew what she was saying. "They can just deal."

Brittany sighed in defeat. "I guess I'll do it alone, then."


	29. Hot Girls In Good Moods

**Chapter 29: Hot Girls In Good Moods**

Chapter title and **soundtrack** song: "Hot Girls In Good Moods" by Butch Walker.

Thanks Mia!

* * *

><p>There was a loud rapping at the door. Santana awoke with a start, raising her head off the pillow.<p>

The door burst open before Brittany could sing, "Come in!" from her chair at the desk. Kelsey walked in with a ridiculous grin plastered on her face, pulling Brian into the room behind her. He looked equally mischievous.

"Good thing we were dressed!" laughed Brittany.

"Wouldn't have mattered, ladies," Brian quipped.

"We're kidnapping you!" Kelsey cheered.

"Wha-? Why?" Santana sputtered in her sleepy haze.

"You need to be initiated!" Kelsey chirped.

"No thanks. We're monogamous," groaned Santana, setting her head back on the pillow.

"Initiation doesn't involve cheating," Kelsey laughed.

"But if we do our job right, you'll want to take your tops off!" sang Brian.

"Don't mind him," said Kelsey, rolling her eyes. "He's too gay to function."

"Oh, please, Mean Girl, like you're any less gay!"

"But I achieve things!"

"Like what, sitting in your pajamas reading fanfiction and eating vegan crap?"

"Shut up."

"Don't act like you're the only brains of the operation. We run the Collective _together_," Brian crooned as he put his arm around Kelsey and squeezed.

Kelsey let out an exasperated yet affectionate sigh as she reached out and swatted Santana on the ass through the blankets. "Get up!" she said, "You two are in serious need of a night at MSR."

"What's MSR?" asked Brittany in delight.

"My Sister's Room," explained Brian. "Only the best-kept secret in Boston. A girly bar with a secret entrance for you underage foxes."

"Why would they want baby woodland creatures in a bar?" asked Brittany.

"People _still_ don't know when you're kidding, Britt," Santana groaned, pulling the sheets over her head.

Brittany giggled. "We are _so_ in!"

"We are?" Santana challenged, pulling the sheet down and looking up.

"Totally! Give us ten minutes to change."

"You got it," sang Kelsey. "Make her wear the red dress!" she called to Brittany as she pulled Brian towards the door.

As they were exiting, Brian turned to Brittany. "And make sure she doesn't bolt!" he said, pointing to Santana with a grin.

"She won't, I've got her trained," Brittany teased.

Santana rolled her eyes as their friends laughed as the door closed behind them.

* * *

><p>"This is a terrible idea," Santana muttered as Kelsey pulled back the bottom corner of the chain-link fence. She could hear bass thudding from inside the bar as she crossed her arms over chest, annoyed that they had woken her up, chosen her outfit, and dragged her out on the town.<p>

"No it's not!" Kelsey chirped. "I do it all the time!" She ushered Brittany through the hole in the fence. "Management totally knows and they don't fix it on purpose."

"Why not just get fake IDs?" challenged Santana as Brian ducked under the fence.

"Because fakes cost money and the hole in the fence is free," Kelsey said patiently, gesturing for Santana to crawl through.

Santana rolled her eyes and ducked under. They walked through a few waist-high clumps of dry grass before entering into a small, patchy lawn. A few lackluster strings of Christmas lights hung from a wooden awning in front of them. A group of women sat smoking in a circle of plastic lawn chairs to their left, drinks in one hand, cigarettes in the other. Santana eyed them with suspicion, but none of the women looked up.

Santana took Brittany by the elbow. "It just seems like it's gonna be some weird lesbian meat market," she said through her teeth as they crossed the lawn.

"You're not gonna let me out of your sight, are you?" Brittany whined. She wasn't a child; she didn't need Santana to babysit her. Santana knew that, too.

"Not a chance," Santana muttered as they walked through a weathered, wooden doorframe of the back door. She was using the pretense that she didn't want anyone to flirt with Brittany, but really, Santana she wanted Brittany there to ease her own anxiety.

Inside it was dim and loud. Women were packed onto a dance floor and around a sticky bar. A DJ sat in a raised booth in the far corner. Most women were dancing with two or three other women, minding their own business. Again, no one looked at them. Santana was surprised to see Sasha behind the bar mixing drinks.

Kelsey jostled her way to the bar, dragging Brittany and Santana behind her. "Four Long Islands!" she yelled over the music, handing over a credit card. Sasha smiled, nodded and started mixing the drinks in a row along the counter.

"Doesn't she care that we're underage?" Brittany yelled into Kelsey's ear. "She knows we're freshmen."

"No way," said Kelsey, "She came here when she was your age too." Kelsey glanced back at Sasha at the bar with a shy smile, her heels rising off the floor to the beat.

"This is just like Birdi's!" Brittany shouted to Santana over the music.

"Yeah, but without the gross guys, so double cool," Santana agreed, nodding as she looked around. She was surprised by the lack of attention they drew from the women in the bar. She found that comforting. Maybe this place wasn't so bad.

Kelsey leaned over. "This is what they don't tell you about lesbian bars," she shouted. "In movies and stuff it's always a cesspool of lesbian predators. But in real life, the women are too self-involved or shy to come talk to you, even if they want to. So you're free to just dance and no one's going to twat-swat you away from the girl you came in with," she grinned.

"Twat swat?" Brittany asked.

"Yeah, like cock-block, but for chicks," Kelsey explained, handing them their drinks. "Of course the down side is if you're single, it's pretty hard to get lucky." Kelsey took a sip from her drink, glancing surreptitiously at Sasha behind the bar again.

Brittany tilted her head in thought for a minute as she took a long sip from her straw. Santana took a sip too. The alcohol hit her quickly; Sasha didn't mess around with her mixed drinks - they were _strong_! Soon enough, she felt the music tugging her in and her body reacting, seeming to have a will of its own.

Brittany wanted to dance too. "C'mon, S, dance with me!" she beckoned, backing into the dancing crowd, heels prancing.

Santana took a long sip as she allowed herself to be pulled into the throng of sweaty, pulsating women. After a few minutes, Santana leaned into Brittany. They danced pressed firmly together, way closer than they had at Prom. Prom had been fun, of course, but the formalwear, jocks, and lack of alcohol made the atmosphere less primal and raw than at this dive bar.

Santana looked over Brittany's shoulder, observing the crowd. "You're the hottest one here," she shouted. Brittany grinned and dropped low, then slid her torso up Santana's body in a smooth undulation. Santana slid her free hand around Brittany, pulling her pelvis in tight to her own.

"You get to take me home!" Brittany shouted, pressing her forehead into Santana's.

"I better!" Santana laughed.

They danced for a few minutes before Brittany leaned into Santana's ear and said, "I think she likes her."

"Who?" shouted Santana.

"Sasha," Brittany answered. "I think she likes Kelsey."

Santana looked behind her and saw their friends, still on the fringe of the crowd. Kelsey was smiling and rolling her hips to the beat next to Brian. Behind the bar Sasha had her thumbs hooked into the belt loops of her cargo pants, swaying as she glanced wistfully at Kelsey. Kelsey was oblivious, arms above her head, drink in hand, bumping her hips with Brian, who pranced from foot to foot flamboyantly.

"Kelsey would never go for her," Santana dismissed.

"Why not?" Brittany asked, furrowing her brow. "I saw her looking at her earlier."

"She can do better."

"Better than Sasha?" Brittany said in surprise. "Sasha's awesome!" she argued.

Santana just shrugged and pulled Brittany closer, kissing her neck. "You're way awesomer," she deflected. "Like a million times awesomer."

Brittany returned her attention to Santana, smiling and peppering kisses onto Santana's neck. "I know!" she chirped. "And I'm in love with the awesomest girl _I_ know."

Santana pressed further into Brittany and got lost in the beat. Through the smell of sweat, and the haze of the alcohol, Santana realized she couldn't have been happier.


	30. You Learn

**Chapter 30: You Learn**

Chapter title song: "You Learn" by Alanis Morissette

Many thanks to my dedicated Beta Mia!

* * *

><p>A week later there was a knock at the door. Santana was getting tired of the constant interruptions. "Come in!" she snapped.<p>

Sasha poked her head in, not bothering to enter. Santana could see she was wearing a red, plaid flannel shirt and rolled her eyes. Sasha was simply too flagrant.

"Hey, ladies," Sasha greeted. "How's it going?"

Brittany looked up from her computer, but Santana returned to attention to her book. "Fine."

"Have you had any problems with your air conditioner? The maintenance staff has gotten a lot of complaints from this side of the building. Just checking to make sure yours is okay."

"It's fine, thanks," Santana said curtly.

"We haven't noticed anything," said Brittany with a friendly smile. "But we'll let you know if we do. Thanks for asking."

"No problem. Oh hey, thanks for taking notes for me in history, Brittany. I owe you a solid."

"No problem," Brittany smiled

"Okay, great. Later," Sasha said, letting the door close.

"What's your deal with her?" Brittany asked, getting up and changing out of her sweats and into her jeans.

Santana shrugged, not looking up.

"You're always cold around her," Brittany observed.

"I just don't see… I mean, why does she have to dress like that? Does she want _everyone_ to know she's gay?"

Brittany frowned. "No. She just wants everyone to know she's Sasha."

"It just bothers me," Santana complained.

"Geez, seems you've still got a bit of internalized homophobia to deal with," Brittany muttered, tying her shoes. It was unlike her to be underhandedly aggressive. Santana was surprised.

"I'm not homophobic!" defended Santana. "I just think she should make an effort to look like a _girl_."

Brittany's frown deepened. "So if someone doesn't dress like you and me, they don't look like a girl?" she asked.

"No, it's just confusing. Does she want to be a boy? Or just want everyone to know she's gay? It's so in-your-face. She needs to tone it down."

"Listen to the things coming out of your mouth, Santana," Brittany insisted, standing up. "You have some serious judgments about people who don't conform to gender norms."

"What?" asked Santana. Brittany's grasp of LGBT terminology was beyond hers now.

"You judge people who express themselves differently than you do."

"I've always judged people," Santana dismissed.

"Ok, but now it's becoming gay on gay crime," said Brittany, her eyes piercing through Santana's defensive gaze. "You're coming with me tomorrow when I do Speakers' Bureau." Santana opened her mouth to protest, but Brittany held up a finger. "Ah! No excuses. Just one time. All you have to do is sit in the back of the room and listen." Brittany grabbed her backpack and left.

Santana _humphed_ and directed her attention back to her book. There was no way she was going to let Brittany make her go to the Speakers' Bureau presentation.

* * *

><p>Santana sat in a stiff plastic chair in the back of Ms. Evans' ninth grade Health classroom. The smell of adolescent body odor and pencil shavings made her nose itch. A dilapidated skeleton wearing a sombrero stood in the corner of the room, mocking Santana's inability to resist Brittany when she insisted on something. Brittany, Brian and Kelsey stood at the front of the room, animated as ever as students filed into the room. Brittany wrote her first name, along with Kelsey and Brian's, on the board underneath the number for the LGBT Youth Counseling Line. Santana was afraid the students would whisper things Brittany couldn't hear, or worse, laugh at her. But after the room was full and the door closed, no one seemed to be paying attention to the trio at the front of the room.<p>

"Put everything on your desk away. I expect you all to give our speakers your full attention," instructed Ms. Evans. There were a few rustling noises throughout the room and Santana felt her stomach flutter in worry. "We're very lucky our guests took the time to come speak to us today. While they're talking, I want you to think of at least one good question to ask them. Your participation points for the day are based on your questions."

Kelsey nodded her appreciation to Ms. Evans. "Hey guys, what's up?" she started. "We're from Boston College. We came here to talk to you about LGBT issues. Does anyone know what that is?"

No one moved. Santana cringed.

"_No_ one?" Brittany mocked, eyes wide. " Is this a school for people who live under rocks?"

A few students snickered.

"LBGT issues mean issues related to being lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender," explained Kelsey. "Anyone ever heard those terms?"

A few students nodded.

"We're going to spend the next hour talking about what it's like to be L, G, B or T," Kelsey said. "Although we don't have a T speaker. We'll try to give you as much information as we can, but we won't have a first-hand story."

"A few catches, though," said Brian. "First, we can only speak for ourselves. We can't tell you what it's like for _every _LGBT person in the world, right? So we'll tell you what our experience has been, but it doesn't apply to everyone. 'Kay?"

"Second - and this might disappoint some of you - is that we're not here to talk about sex," Kelsey added. "Awww, I know, right?" she giggled. "Obviously, LGBT people have sex, but it's not really the most important or interesting thing about being gay. We're not here to give you an anatomy lesson; we want to talk about the social and emotional stuff that goes with being gay."

"And the third thing is that we're not here to recruit you," Brittany piped up. "Being gay isn't like a cold; you can't give it to someone else or catch it from being in the same room. If you came in here straight, you'll leave straight, and if you leave here gay, it's because you came in gay."

A few students laughed, smiling at Brittany. Santana relaxed a little bit. Brittany was a good public speaker. It shouldn't have surprised her; she knew Brittany's charm better than anyone.

"So we'll start with terminology. I'm guessing most of you know what gay means; a man who is attracted to other men," Kelsey stated. "But sometimes we use the word 'gay' to mean anyone who is LGBT. You probably have a good idea of what lesbian and bisexual mean, too. But most people have a lot of questions about the 'T.' Does anyone know what transgendered means?"

No one moved.

"Transgender, in general, means someone who doesn't feel they fit into being completely a boy or completely a girl," Brittany began. "It's about your gender identity, not who you're attracted to. There are _lots_ of ways to be transgender. Basically, if you do anything that is outside of what society says is traditional for the gender you were assigned at birth, you're transgendered. How many self-identified females in this room are wearing pants?" she asked, looking around.

About half the girls in the room raised their hands, including Santana.

"Okay, all of you are technically transgender," smirked Brian. "Because everyone knows girls aren't supposed to wear pants!"

"Here's a good way to understand gender identity," said Kelsey. "Imagine you're all alone in a room. What is your sense about being a boy or a girl? Some people say 'Oh, I'm totally female,' and some people say 'Oh, I'm totally male.' But most people are actually not completely one or the other – like all you girls in pants!" she grinned, pointing to the class.

"Here's an easy way to remember the difference," said Brittany, "Sexual orientation - being gay, straight, bi, whatever, - is about who you go to bed _with_. Gender identity is who you go to bed _as_." There were a few giggles in the room.

Brittany continued, "What do most people think of when they hear the word transgender? They probably think of drag queens or people that have had gender reassignment surgery, right?"

There were a few nods.

"Those are just two ways to be transgender," said Brittany. "There are lots of other ways. You've heard of cross-dressers, right?"

More nods.

"I have a fun fact for you," said Brittany with a grin. "Did you know that ninety percent of cross dressers are straight men?"

A few students, as well as Santana, looked surprised.

"It's true," confirmed Kelsey. "Most cross dressers are straight men who cross dress in the privacy of their own homes because it excites them. Some of them do go out in public sometimes. It's different than drag queens in a few ways; first of all, cross dressers usually pick pretty average clothing to cross dress in, while drag queens pick outfits and hair and makeup that are crazy and over the top. They're actually mocking the opposite gender; the hair is out to _here_ and the makeup is dramatic and the clothing kind of absurd. It's all for entertainment."

"There are other ways to be transgender too. One of my favorite terms is Two-Spirit," said Brian. " It's a Native American term that is used to describe someone in the tribe who has the wisdom of both the male and female spirit. They're highly respected, like a Shaman or a healer. I like the term Two-Spirit because it isn't attached to any crazy reality shows and no one uses it in a mean way."

"There are also people who identify as intersex," continued Kelsey. "These people are generally born with biological traits of both men and women. Sometimes it's only on a chromosomal level, but sometimes they have physical manifestations of it as well. But I do want to let you know that there is no such thing as a hermaphrodite; a hermaphrodite is someone who has a complete set of genitalia for both genders. There has never been a documented case of that."

"Some people identify as genderqueer," added Brian. "These people feel they cannot be boxed in by one gender, and refuse any label. They use neutral pronouns. It may sound radical, but it's what feels best to them."

"These are just a few of the terms that fall under the category of 'transgender,'" finished Brittany. "There are lots more. But we've only got an hour."

"So now we're going to tell you our stories," Kelsey said, smiling. "We'll tell you what our lives are like, but we'll leave stuff out on purpose so you guys can ask us about it during the questions. I'll start. I'm Kelsey, and I'm here as the L in LGBT. I'm a lesbian, but usually I just use the term 'gay girl.' That feels like a better fit to me."

Santana sat back, listening as Kelsey effortlessly entertained the students, coaxing them into a relaxed state of listening and periodically laughing at her jokes. She was so confident and comfortable; Santana was jealous. Brian was equally as charismatic and engaging. Then all eyes turned to Brittany. Santana felt a flutter in her stomach.

"I'm Brittany, and I'm here as the B in LGBT; I'm bisexual. Does anyone know what that means?"

A confident girl with flippy brown hair raised her hand. Brittany pointed to her and nodded, urging her to answer. "It means you have sex with guys and girls," the girl stated.

"Well, yes," said Brittany, dipping her head to one side, "But what it really means is that I'm _attracted_ to both guys and girls. I have _relationships_ with both. Remember not everything is about sex," she smiled. "So my story is that I grew up in a pretty normal, sheltered suburb in Ohio. My parents are still married and we spend lots of time together. I was a cheerleader in high school. I dated lots of boys. I had really good friends. So… hmm…" Brittany looked at Kelsey. "How do I tell this next part without talking about sex?" she giggled.

"You can say you were experimenting," offered Kelsey. "That's vague enough."

"Okay, so I was _experimenting_ with a friend of mine – a girl - and it ended up being really awesome. I started thinking, 'gosh, I could do this all the time.' So we did. But after a while I realized I liked the snuggling afterwards just as much, and I wanted to go on dates with her and take her to the Prom. You know, _love_ stuff." She grinned. "I fell in love with my best friend, and as it turned out, she loved me back."

A girl with green glasses on the side of the room raised her hand. "So did you guys go out?"

"Well, eventually we did. She couldn't admit she loved me back for a while. I had a boyfriend by the time she finally admitted it, so that was kind of a problem."

"But don't you date guys and girls at the same time?" interrupted a lanky boy in the back row.

"Raise your hand, Emmet," Ms. Evans chastised.

"No, definitely not," said Brittany, shaking her head. "I only date one person at a time. I've been with the same person for a while now."

A plump girl with curly red hair in the front row raised her hand. Brittany called on her. "What's his name?" the girl asked.

Santana silently begged Brittany not to call attention to her_._

"It's a girl. I like both, remember? Her name is Santana." Brittany smiled at the name, but didn't look at Santana_._ Santana exhaled in relief. "So when I broke up with the guy, _she_ had a new girlfriend," Brittany continued. "But eventually we did get together. It was pretty complicated, though. I didn't think there was anything wrong with being together, but she had a harder time. She wanted it to be a secret, and I didn't."

A lanky boy raised his hand timidly. Brittany pointed to him.

"Why did she think that?" he asked.

"We have very different families, so I think that was part of it," Brittany answered. "Her parents thought it was wrong, and they gave her a hard time about it when she told them. My parents were the opposite; they practically asked her to move in with us. They even gave us a cake when I told them."

A few students giggled.

Brittany continued, "Family can be a really tricky thing for LGBT people, no matter your age. I got really, really lucky. My parents went to Pride and marched in the parade with me and my girlfriend, waving rainbow flags and everything. It was awesome."

Santana grinned at the memory.

"But most people aren't that lucky. _Her_ parents kept telling her it was a phase, and she was confused, and it really hurt her. Some kids even get kicked out of their houses or sent away when their parents find out. Or worse."

A boy slouching in his seat in an oversized hoodie raised his hand. "What was it like at school?"

"School was tricky. Not everyone knew we were a couple, but a lot of people did. Some people knew and were cool with it, and some people knew and weren't so sure how they felt; and some people were _definitely_ not cool with it."

A burly football player raised his hand. "Did you get bullied?"

Brittany tilted her head, eyes glancing up. "Well, we never got beat up or anything. No one ever threatened us out loud. But that's not the only way someone can be bullied. We got some funny looks and a few people used mean words around us. There were some whispers. So we were never hurt physically, but it still hurt to be treated differently."

Santana was surprised. She had never heard Brittany talk about their high school experience like this. She had assumed Brittany was oblivious to the mutterings and the glances in the hall, but now she realized Brittany had been aware and had taken it in stride. She was even prouder to call Brittany her girlfriend now.

Kelsey picked up the conversation now. "High school can be really tough for LGBT Teens. You hear a lot of people telling you to _come out_ and be _proud_ of who you are. But the truth is, it's a big decision. Only come out when you're ready and you think it's safe. This hotline is a great place to call if you're trying to figure out who you can tell," she said, pointing to the number on the whiteboard. "I wish I could tell you it's always safe to come out, but the truth is, it's not. Brittany was pretty lucky, but I _did_ get bullied in a more violent way. I got kicked and spit on in the halls, and the teachers didn't do anything. It was pretty miserable."

Santana had new respect for Kelsey, hearing that.

Flippy Hair raised her hand. "Brittany, did your girlfriend ever feel okay with people knowing?"

Brittany glanced at Santana. "She got more used to it, I think. She was never totally comfortable, but she was very brave."

Santana had never considered herself brave. There was something warm glowing inside her at Brittany's response. Suddenly she didn't feel the need to cower in the back of the room.

"What happened to her after high school?" asked the girl.

Brittany glanced at Santana, asking with her eyes. Santana beamed, nodding her permission.

"She's sitting right there." Brittany smiled and pointed. "We're still together," she said proudly.

The whole class turned to look at Santana. She gave a shy wave, a goofy smile on her face. She felt her chest filling with pride.

"Oh, it's the same girl?" Flippy Hair exclaimed. "Aww!"

The class turned back to Brittany and Santana heard the lanky boy, Emmet, whisper "_Dude_…" to his buddy, wiggling his eyebrows. She rolled her eyes.

"So now we want to talk about stereotypes. Anyone ever heard of those?" Kelsey asked, raising a pen to the whiteboard. A few _yeahs_ peppered the room. Kelsey wrote the word _teenagers_ on one side of the board before drawing a line down the center.

"Who can tell me a stereotype they've heard about teenagers?" Kelsey asked with a cheeky smile.

None of the students spoke.

Brittany offered, "I heard that they sleep around a lot. And they lie and cheat and steal."

"Okay, great," Kelsey responded, writing _sleep around_, _liars_, and _cheaters_ under the word _teenagers_ on the board. "What else?"

"They're _terrible_ drivers," said Brian with a wave of his hand.

"Definitely," Kelsey joked, writing it down. "What else, guys?"

"We do a lot of drugs," said a boy in the second row.

"Yeah, and we only think about ourselves," offered the girl with curly red hair.

"We're irresponsible," said another student.

"We can't be trusted," agreed another.

"We smell bad."

"We hate all our teachers."

"We're angry at everyone."

"We waste our parents' money."

"Our hormones make us crazy."

"Great, guys," encouraged Kelsey as she wrote the words on the board. A few more suggestions were thrown out before the room died down.

Brittany turned to the class. "So are these things true about _all_teenagers?" she challenged.

"Nooo," chorused most of the room.

"Are they true about _some_ teenagers?" Brian asked.

The students nodded and muttered to themselves.

"So what if we did the same thing for LGBT people. What things would go here?" asked Kelsey, writing _LGBT People_ on the other side of the board.

Santana could feel the discomfort hovering over the students. None of them wanted to say anything offensive, so they just kept quiet. She cleared her throat. "All lesbians play softball," she offered. Brittany smiled thankfully at Santana.

Kelsey wrote it down, saying, "I've heard that one before. What else?"

"Gay men have awesome fashion sense," said Brian. "Which is true, _obviously_," he grinned.

"Yeah, and they make good hairdressers," added a girl in front of Santana.

"And interior designers," added the redhead.

"And they love the opera," said a boy.

"Bisexuals are just slutty," said Brittany. "They'll sleep with _anyone_." She smiled and shook her head, mouthing the words _not true_. Santana grinned.

"I've heard some people say that LGBTs are just confused. I don't think that's true, but I've heard other people say it," said Flippy Hair with an unsure, apologetic expression.

"Yup, we hear that a lot," said Kelsey, marker squeaking.

"Some people think lesbians hate men," added the football player.

"Oh, I have one!" said Brian. "I've heard people assume that because another man is gay, I'm attracted to him. Which is _so_ not true; when I'm attracted to someone, it's _great_ if he's gay, but I'm never attracted to someone _because_ he's gay. I'm not gonna slum it just because we play on the same team, honey."

Kelsey giggled, "Yeah, being gay doesn't make someone hot."

"It makes _me_ hot," countered Brittany with a grin.

Santana and Brian laughed with a few of the students. Kelsey chuckled as she wrote _LGBT people always like other LGBT people._

"Alright, great list, guys. We're running short on time, so I'll stop there. But I'm going to ask you the same question; are all these things true about all LGBT people?" Kelsey challenged.

"Nooo," the room chorused again.

"Are they true about _some_ LGBT people?" Kelsey asked, putting the cap on the marker.

"Yesss," droned the room.

"Good job, guys," Brittany smiled, clapping. "You all pass."

The bell rang and the students leapt from their seats, lunging into the hall. When the flurry died down, Ms. Evans shook hands with Brittany, Kelsey and Brian. Santana walked out into the hallway with them. They meandered out to the parking lot, Brittany and Santana saying goodbye to Kelsey and Brian as they walked the other way to their car.

"That was awesome, B," Santana congratulated, giving Brittany a rub between her shoulder blades before they parted to get into opposite sides of the car. "Those kids loved it. They asked great questions."

"Didn't they?" agreed Brittany, shutting her door. "The questions are always my favorite part. It reminds me of how much they have to learn and makes me feel good about what I'm doing."

"You're doing a _great_ thing," agreed Santana. "You're really good at it, too."

Brittany beamed as she started the car. "I want you to come with me again in three weeks," she stated. "And I want you to tell your story."

Santana felt her stomach clench. "No way, Britt," Santana said, eyes wide, shaking her head.

"Why not?" Brittany whined. "You've got a _great_ story."

"Maybe… but it's not exactly something I want to recount in front of high school kids. Not so long ago, we _were_ high school kids."

"But we're presenting at an inner city school and we don't have anyone who can do the presentation in Spanish. You'd be _such_ a valuable part of our team."

Santana looked out the window, feeling torn.

"Think about how different your life would have been if you'd heard that presentation as a freshman," Brittany argued as she pulled out of the parking lot.

That thought struck a chord with Santana. Her life _would_ have been different. She might have spent less time beneath sweaty jocks wondering when she was supposed to start enjoying sex; she might have been able to admit she liked Brittany before Artie came into the picture; she might have never belittled Sam in her panic or teased Kurt for being gay. And if her classmates and friends had heard the presentation, she might have been able to hold Brittany's hand in the hallway proudly, without the fear mixed with it; she might have never had to deal with various reactions from Azimio or Puck that made her feel like her relationship was less significant than it was.

Brittany took Santana's silence as a refusal. She sighed. "Now _you_ have a chance to make a difference for someone like you. I can't believe you're turning it down."

Santana bit her lip. "I'll think about it," she promised.


	31. Bold as Love

**Chapter 31: Bold as Love**

* * *

><p>A Week later, Santana lay on the bed, tapping her pen against a textbook as she lay on her stomach, propped up on her elbows. She was thinking about Brittany's presentation from the week before. Hearing Brittany talk about her sexual orientation so openly with a group of strangers had raised questions for her - questions that made her uneasy. Brittany's sexual orientation was different than Santana's; Brittany <em>did<em> like guys. Santana wondered if, saddled with the same predisposition, she would ever be able to sacrifice one gender for the other. She turned these thoughts over in her head as she pretended to read. But gradually her worry gnawed its way to the surface. She had to ask.

"Do you miss having sex with guys, Britt?"

Brittany looked up from her book with a curious expression. She paused before answering. "A little," she admitted. Her tone was light, trying to keep the conversation casual.

Santana bit the inside of her lip; she didn't want to let on that she felt insecure. But Brittany saw her concern anyway and got up from her chair. She walked over to the bed, closed Santana's textbook and lay down next to Santana on her side with her head propped on her hand. "But I would _never_ do anything. What we have is amazing," she assured, running her hand down the slope of Santana's back.

Santana was unconvinced, searching Brittany's eyes for something she wasn't saying. "Do you wish I had… ya know…" She looked away in embarrassment.

Brittany chuckled and quickly said, "No way! I love your lady parts." She ran her hand over Santana's ass and down the inside of her thighs, teasing. Santana relaxed a little. Brittany removed her hand to tuck a strand of hair behind Santana's ear.

"So you could live without what guys have?" Santana sought further confirmation.

"It's called a penis."

Santana wrinkled her nose.

Brittany shrugged. "I like both."

In truth, Santana admired - no, _envied_ - Brittany's openness to all people. But it wasn't as if Santana hadn't given men a fair shot, and she was decidedly _not_ interested. She knew it really wasn't a choice; she had, in fact, been born this way.

Santana looked down at her elbows where they dug into the mattress. She decided to ask the question she had been dancing around. "Do you feel like you're giving something up to be with me?" Her words were small and timid, and if Brittany had been across the room, she might not have heard.

Brittany looked surprised. "No," she said, her face solemn. "No more than you're giving up."

Santana looked at her, confused. "But I don't like guys, so I didn't give them up to be with you."

"I don't mean it like that, " Brittany said. "Yeah, I guess if I'm with a guy I give up being with a girl, and if I'm with a girl I give up being with a guy... But gender isn't really the point. It's not the biggest part of what we give up by being with someone."

"What do we give up?" Santana asked, still unclear. She rolled onto her side, propping her head on her hand, mirroring Brittany.

"The biggest thing we give up is our emotional safety," Brittany answered, looking at Santana earnestly. "When you're alone, people can only affect you so much. But when you really let someone in… they can give you _so_ much. But they can take away a lot more. I took that chance when I chose you."

Once again, the depth of Brittany's understanding dumbfounded Santana. She gazed at Brittany in adoration.

"God, B… you're _so_ smart," she whispered.

Brittany beamed.

Santana took Brittany's hand in hers, kissing it before placing it on the pillow between them. "I don't want to take anything away from you," she murmured, admiring the promise ring on Brittany's finger.

"You already have," Brittany said as she leaned in for a soft kiss.

"What did I take?" Santana asked when their lips parted, brow slightly furrowed.

Brittany didn't speak, but untangled her hand from Santana's and traced a heart on her chest with her finger.

Santana felt her insides melt. "Me too," she whispered.

Santana kissed Brittany again. Brittany inhaled and put her hand behind Santana's head, pressing their lips together. Whenever Brittany's words failed to reassure Santana, her body did. Santana finally relaxed.

Brittany released Santana's head and broke away, breathlessly. They lay their heads down on the pillow.

"I would _never_ give this up because of a body part," Brittany murmured with a confident smile.

"Okay. Good." Santana nestled her head into Brittany's neck, breathing in the smell of her skin.

An idea crossed Santana's mind. "You know…" she began, looking back up at Brittany, "if you miss a _particular_ part of being with guys…" She looked away from Brittany as she blushed. "We could try accessorizing." She glanced back at Brittany to gauge her reaction.

Brittany's eyes widened before she composed herself. "Oh, really…" she said coyly, eyebrow raised.

Santana nodded.

"You would do that?" Brittany asked, a little surprised.

"If it would make you happy, of _course_."

"Well… I think that would be fun," said Brittany thoughtfully, looking directly into Santana's eyes. "But I don't need that to be totally satisfied by you."

"Okay," Santana said. "Good to know." She smiled, relieved that Brittany wasn't torn by her attraction to both men and women. She took Brittany's hand again, kissing her fingertips before resting their clasped hands back on the pillow between them. Homework could wait.

* * *

><p>Santana was lying on the bed listening to music when Brittany breezed into their room, setting down her backpack. They had just finished their last classes before Thanksgiving vacation.<p>

"Hey, baby," Brittany said cheerfully, leaning down to kiss Santana on the cheek.

"Hey, B," Santana replied, taking out her headphones and tugging Brittany back in for a kiss on the lips. "Where were you?" she asked.

Brittany ignored her question, humming into Santana's lips as she kissed her again. "Mmm… I was thinking I could give you an early Christmas present tonight."

"But it's not even Thanksgiving yet," Santana protested.

"Well… Your birthday was two weeks ago and saying it's a late birthday present makes me sound like a bad girlfriend," Brittany whined.

"It can be a late birthday present," said Santana. "I have _no_problem continuing to celebrate if it's anything like our celebration on my _actual_ birthday…" She ran her hand down Brittany's stomach suggestively.

"How about half late birthday, half early Christmas?"

"Please tell me the Christmas part is you in a sexy Mrs. Claus outfit."

"Definitely not! That would be disrespectful to her," said Brittany, looking shocked. Then the corner of her lip curled in a tiny smile and Santana knew she was kidding. Santana pouted in response.

Brittany produced a wrapped gift, about the size of a shoebox.

"The first part of your gift is inside," Brittany explained.

"The first part?" Santana asked, cocking her head and raising her eyebrow.

Brittany nodded with a cheeky smile.

Santana sat up and looked at the box. "Should I open it now?" she asked.

Brittany bobbed her head in excitement.

Santana eyed Brittany with a hint of suspicion as she pulled off the wrapping. It was indeed a shoebox. She lifted the lid. Her eyes went wide when she saw what was inside: a dildo and a harness. She bit her lip and looked up at Brittany. "I see you liked my suggestion that other day…" she stated. She liked the idea of a strap-on in theory, but faced with the reality of actually using one, she was much more nervous than she expected.

Brittany was beaming and bouncing on her heels.

Santana bit her lip in contemplation. "Do you want… right now? Should I… um…"

Brittany darted forward to give Santana another kiss on the cheek. "I want you to wear it," she encouraged. "Now." She winked.

"Okay." Santana was glad Brittany was being directive. This was completely foreign terrain.

"I'm going to take care of something while you put it on," Brittany said with a sparkle in her eye.

"You're not going to help me?" Santana pouted.

Brittany shook her head. "You'll figure it out," she said with a wink. She locked the door and walked into their closet, shutting it.

Santana eyed the strap-on as she removed all her clothes, including her underwear. She picked up the harness, examining its many straps and buckles. It looked way too complicated. She turned it about, trying to determine where her legs were supposed go. When she figured it out, she stepped into it and fastened the straps snugly. She looked down at herself, pleased and thinking it looked pretty sexy. Maybe it wasn't sexy in a conventional way, but it was definitely sexy. She looked into the box at the dildo; this part she was not so sure about. It was a good size; not enormous, but definitely respectable. But she was afraid putting it on would make her feel less... _feminine_. Nevertheless, she eventually figured out how to attach it to the harness. It felt awkward to wear. She wasn't sure she wanted Brittany to see her wearing it. But Brittany had bought it for them and seemed so excited, she felt obligated to at least give it a try. She shifted back and forth on her feet.

"Hey, B?" Santana called toward the closet.

"I'll be out in a minute!" Brittany called. "Lie down."

Santana was puzzled, but lay back on the bed with her knees bent up. She listened to the sounds coming from the closet, trying to guess what Brittany could possibly be doing. There were indistinguishable muffled noises, but nothing that gave her any clues. Minutes went by. She closed her eyes and imagined Brittany, wearing her khakis and blue-gray button down, walking into a sex toy shop, browsing through shelves, looking for a strap-on to bring home. It was an unbearably naughty image; Brittany picking each one up and studying it just as casually as if she had been examining fruit at the grocery store.

Brittany finally emerged from the closet and Santana opened her eyes. Any thoughts of her own awkward appearance flew her mind as she took Brittany in; she looked ravishing, her hair tousled, and a fresh coat of smoky eyeliner lining her eyes. But she was still wearing her blue-gray button-down shirt that hung down, almost covering her black panties.

Santana was puzzled. "What was that all about, B? You were wearing that when you went in."

"I had on pants when I went in," Brittany replied.

"Since when does it take you ten minutes to take off your pants?" Santana frowned. "Or mine, for that matter?"

Brittany said nothing, but sauntered to the bed. She pressed down on Santana's knees, flattening her legs. She looked down at the appendage protruding from Santana's hips, raising her eyebrow in approval, her expression quickly turning into a naughty smirk. She climbed onto the bed and straddled Santana's thighs. She leaned forward, pressing the dildo onto Santana's stomach as she kissed from one collarbone to the other. Santana brought her hands to Brittany's shoulders as Brittany gave her a slow, wet kiss on the lips.

Brittany sat up, taking Santana's wrists in her hands. She guided them to the top button of her shirt. Santana took the hint and undid the button, marveling at how Brittany's eyes matched her shirt. A few inches of cleavage were revealed as Santana moved her hands to undo the next button. She really hoped Brittany wasn't wearing a bra – that would be super hot. As she undid the second button, her knuckles brushed against something rough under Brittany's shirt. She stopped her hands for a second, glancing between Brittany's smug expression and her cleavage before continuing to the third button. As the shirt fell open another few inches, Santana gasped. Brittany was _not_ wearing a bra – she was wearing a black satin corset.

Santana frantically undid the rest of the buttons, pushing the shirt open. Brittany pulled the shirt all the way off, dropping it on the floor. Santana's mouth watered. The corset was drawn tight, heaving Brittany's breasts skyward and giving Brittany's torso a delicious hourglass shape. Brittany's perky little pink nipples peaked out over the top, contrasting with the black material. Her curves were exquisite to begin with, but now they were more accentuated than ever. Santana began to tremble beneath her, feeling frozen in place. Brittany began to rock her hips, making her torso undulate.

"Oh _God_, B…" Santana moaned. "I don't think I've ever seen anything so sexy in my _life_."

Brittany smirked and leaned down, bringing her breasts closer to Santana's face, continuing to rock her hips. Santana gulped.

"You can touch if you like," Brittany purred.

Santana slid her hands up the front of the corset, feeling the silky material's taut smoothness. She ran her hands down the sides, feeling the inner structure of the garment and how it bound Brittany's waist, cinching it in. She wrapped her hands up the back, shivering at the texture of the lacing that squeezed the corset so tightly together. She pulled her hands around until she was cupping Brittany's breasts, feeling the nipples pressing into her palms. She took each nipple between two fingers and gave each a gentle pinch. Brittany shut her eyes and inhaled. Santana ran her hands around to the back of the corset, admiring the lacing again with her fingers.

"You are so far beyond fuckable right now, Britt," Santana said, her voice gravelly. "Just say the word."

Brittany smiled and slipped off the bed so she could remove her panties. As she slid them down her legs, Santana reached out to Brittany's bound waist, urging her to turn so she could see the back. The sight of Brittany from behind in her corset made Santana weak. The elaborate lacing strung up the back paired with the sight of Brittany's perfectly toned ass was mouthwatering.

"Sweet jeezus, B…" Santana panted.

Brittany threw a wicked grin over her shoulder. She climbed back onto to the bed and resumed her position straddling Santana's thighs, hands on Santana's breasts, gently kneading. She slid her hands up to Santana's shoulders and onto the bed as she leaned low over Santana, breasts brushing against Santana's, the corset pressing the fake member onto Santana's stomach.

"Get me ready," Brittany whispered into Santana's ear, raising her hips up off Santana's thighs, keeping her hoisted breasts lightly brushing against Santana's as she rocked.

Santana didn't need to be told twice. She ran her hands down the corset and onto Brittany's hips, sliding around to Brittany's inner thighs. Santana made small circles with the pads of her fingers there, feeling the moist heat radiating from Brittany's center. Slowly she moved her fingers closer to Brittany's sex before sliding them up and down the slick folds, coating them in Brittany's juices and drawing lazy circles around her clit. Brittany pushed her torso up off Santana's as her breathing grew labored, though she tried to control it. As Brittany closed her eyes in an attempt to maintain dominance, Santana slipped a finger inside Brittany. She was _tight_. Santana loved that feeling when she first entered Brittany, and she loved the look she always saw on Brittany's face as she did, as though Brittany forgot everything in the world existed but them. Brittany pressed down onto Santana's finger, exhaling.

"It's gonna be a tight fit, B," Santana whispered. Even her whisper was rough with lust.

Brittany nodded, eyes still shut in pleasure. She opened them, their piercing blue locking with Santana's dark eyes. Brittany rocked her hips up as Santana withdrew her finger halfway, then pressed down again, meeting Santana's palm. They looked at each other for several moments as the pace between them sped up. As Brittany found a steady groove, Santana slipped a second finger in, enjoying again the slick wetness as it coated her middle digit. Brittany's eyes shut as her walls contracted around the addition and her hands clenched the sheets on either side of Santana's head. She let out a tiny moan.

"I don't know, B… you're so unbelievably tight," Santana husked. Brittany had always been tight, but tonight, with the goal of using the strap-on, she seemed tighter.

Brittany opened her eyes and returned to their previous rhythm, determined. "I love the way you feel inside me," she gasped.

Santana pumped her fingers in and out more urgently. As Brittany grew accustomed to the second finger, Santana began panting at the sight of Brittany, lost in pleasure, rocking back and forth in her corset on top of her. Santana looked down at her hand between them. As she thrust in and out and Brittany rose and fell onto Santana's fingers, her hand glistened with Brittany's juices and made soft smacking noises. Santana wanted more than anything to taste Brittany, but knew she needed to keep her fingers inside, preparing her. She slipped her other hand down and ran it along Brittany's folds, collecting the juices before bringing it up to her mouth. As she licked Brittany's arousal off her free hand, she slid a third finger inside Brittany, stretching her open wider. Brittany stilled her hips and bit her lip at the sight of Santana licking her fingers and the filling sensation of the third digit. Santana marveled at how Brittany's body was able to adjust to its newest trespasser so readily, though it was a tight fit. After a moment Brittany continued rocking with determined hips.

As the pumping in and out became easy, Santana whispered, "I think you're ready, baby."

Brittany nodded, her chest heaving. Hand still inside Brittany, Santana sat up and attempted to flip their positions. Before she could roll Brittany over even slightly, she felt a sting across her cheek and her head fell back on the pillow.

Brittany's mouth was by her ear a second later. "Just because you're wearing that doesn't mean you get to top me," she whispered. Her breathe was hot and damp against Santana's cheek.

Santana felt the air sucked out of her lungs. Brittany being forceful was the hottest thing she'd ever experienced; but Brittany being forceful in a _corset_ rendered her absolutely undone.

Brittany lifted herself off Santana's hand with a shiver and shifted down the bed. She positioned herself between Santana's legs and looked her in the eye as she lowered her mouth to the fake member at Santana's hips, breasts spilling out as she leaned over. She licked the tip playfully and smiled. She held the dildo in her hand and took it into her mouth, pressing down. If Santana had had any doubts about trying the strap-on, they were now completely forgotten. She was shocked by how much she was enjoying the sight of Brittany giving her a blowjob; it made her excruciatingly aroused and she felt herself coating the straps that ran between her legs with her juices. Brittany slid her mouth back up the member, slowing as she came to the head, flicking her tongue out as it slid out. Santana couldn't put a sentence together to communicate her appreciation for the sight of what Brittany was doing. She exhaled shakily and moved her hand to touch Brittany's cheek. Brittany smiled, taking the member back between her lips, pushing them down the shaft further this time. Santana inhaled again. Sure, she couldn't actually feel Brittany's lips on the fake cock, but the sight of Brittany pleasuring it paired with the light pressure she felt on her clit through the harness was plenty to make her soaking wet. She moaned, causing Brittany to press down even further, until her lips met the base of the dildo.

"Oh my _God_, B," Santana groaned, gasping.

Brittany pulled her head back up, making a soft smacking sound as the dildo slipped from her mouth. She licked her lips, then took it back in her mouth and bobbed her head a few more times before sitting up.

"Now you're ready, too," Brittany purred. She crawled back up the bed, coming to straddle Santana's hips.

Santana stared at Brittany's dripping sex as it hovered over the harness. The dildo bobbed between them. "Do you think you can take it all, Britt?" Santana asked, her voice thick and low, eying the dildo.

Brittany smirked and grasped the member with her hand, positioning it at her opening. Santana placed her hands on Brittany's thighs encouragingly. Brittany lowered herself against the head. She hummed and smiled at the sensation. Santana's heart pounded. She did _not_ expect to enjoy this so much. Brittany slowly lowered herself until the head was inside her. Santana was mesmerized. She could see that Brittany was being stretched. Brittany's eyes were filled with lust, looking somewhat desperate as she lowered herself halfway down the dildo. Santana lay very still, worried Brittany was trying to mask an expression of pain. Brittany lifted herself back up. Santana saw the member was coated halfway in Brittany's fluids, and it made her mouth water. She hungered for more of Brittany's delicious flavor, but she knew she had to be patient; right now Brittany was in charge. And she _loved_ when Brittany was in charge.

Brittany lowered herself halfway down the phallus again. Her expression returned to desperate, almost a grimace.

"You okay?" Santana asked softly.

Brittany nodded again, her expression still desperate. She pressed herself down further, her eyebrows rising as she did. She gasped, lifting her hips back up until the dildo was almost completely visible. She took a deep, rasping breath before she started pressing back down again.

"Go easy, B," Santana murmured. "I don't want to hurt you."

Brittany seemed to not hear as she pressed down, determined, watching as the dildo slowly slid inside her. She let out a tiny wince as she took it in completely and her hips met Santana's. She looked up, a triumphant smile on her face. Santana felt a new wave of arousal course through her. She moaned, running her hands up to hold Brittany's hips. Brittany sat still, adjusting to the feeling of being filled.

"_Damn_, B… you did take it all," Santana murmured. She slid one hand from Brittany's stilled hips and ran it down the crease of her thigh, brushing fingertips over her mound on their way to Brittany's clit. She gently pressed down, making small circles around the slick nub.

Brittany sucked in air and let out a gasp as she exhaled. If she felt pain, it was now being offset by Santana's fingers.

"Feel good?" Santana mumbled, fingers widening their circles around Brittany's clit.

"Uh huh," Brittany moaned, tilting her hips slightly forward against Santana's hand, shifting the dildo against her inner walls and shivering. She lifted her hips, rising off Santana and revealing the now-coated member. Santana kept her hand on Brittany's clit and watched as the dildo emerged from Brittany's sex, fascinated. Brittany pressed down again, a little faster this time, but still slowing as her hips came to meet Santana's. Santana started making the circles around Brittany's clit a little quicker. Brittany's breathing picked up again, and Santana's with it.

Brittany began a slow, steady rhythm. Soon it became too fast for Santana's hand to follow Brittany's hips up and down and continue their ministrations, so she removed her hand, licking her fingers. Brittany leaned over Santana, hands extended over Santana's shoulders onto the bed, breasts heaving towards Santana's face. After Santana had sucked the last of Brittany's essence off her fingers, she reached her hands up and cupped Brittany's breasts, squeezing them, feeling how the corset was thrusting them upwards. She rolled the nipples between her moistened fingers, giving a soft pinch as she gently thrust her hips up to meet Brittany's. Brittany shuddered through her panting, her arms collapsing so she was resting her chest against Santana's.

"Oh god, it feels so good, Santana," Brittany moaned into Santana's neck. "You have no idea… I'm so full."

Santana smiled as she panted, thrusting up again, causing Brittany to let out a tiny sob. Santana started a steady pace of thrusting up.

"So good… so good…" Brittany chanted.

"You want me to take over, B?" Santana said in a gentle, throaty voice.

Brittany nodded desperately against Santana's shoulder, still gasping.

"Yeah?" Santana asked, wanting explicit permission.

"Yeah," Brittany whimpered.

Without hesitating, Santana grabbed Brittany's hips, thrust all the way into her and rolled her over, dildo sheathed inside her. Brittany fell back onto the bed, hair spilling over the pillow, breasts pooling. Santana looked down at her, corset still creating a stunning hourglass visual, her face set in rapturous surrender.

At first the thrusting was awkward; Santana had never done this before. But because she knew Brittany's body so well and because she knew what sounds Brittany made when something was working, she soon found a groove that worked for both of them. She was glad to discover she still felt plenty feminine; in coherent moments Brittany ran her hands over Santana's breasts, pinching her nipples, or around her waist, holding her at the smallest part. Santana's stomach slid along the fabric of the corset, creating warm friction. With each thrust, pressure was placed on her own clit, and she could feel her own arousal start to drip down, soaking through the straps that ran between her legs.

As Santana found her groove and picked up the pace, Brittany began making tiny, high-pitched grunts with each thrust. "Ugh, Santana…" she cried after one particularly forceful thrust.

"You like that?" Santana panted.

Brittany nodded, eyes shut in ravishment, her breath escaping her in little moans now. She ran her hands around Santana's waist, sliding them over the straps, resting them low on Santana's hips, pressing up. "More…" was all she could say.

Santana hummed. "Very naughty…" she added between thrusts. She began thrusting more forcefully into Brittany, a satisfying, wet _thwack_ ringing out with each thrust. Brittany's fingers dug into Santana's hips in appreciation, her toes curling. She lifted her legs up, wrapping them around Santana's hips, allowing Santana to thrust deeper inside her.

"Yes, yes, yes," Brittany whimpered with each thrust.

Santana was growing tired; this was hard work! But she kept thrusting, not wanting the erotic sounds to quiet for even a moment. She felt Brittany's stomach clench, even through the corset, and pushed into Brittany just a bit harder with each thrust. She bent her head down and began kissing Brittany's neck.

"Uh! Uh!" Brittany gasped. "I'm so close!" she said, fingernails digging into Santana's hips.

"Come for me, baby," Santana grunted, slamming hard into Brittany.

"Oh!" Brittany gasped at the force.

Santana slammed in again and Brittany whimpered.

"I'll keep going until you scream my name," Santana hummed. She bit down on Brittany's pressure point as she rammed the dildo in again and felt Brittany's body seize beneath her. Santana held there for a minute, ravishing Brittany's neck as she shook. As she tried to pull out so she could slam back in again, she found Brittany's sex had clamped down so hard on the dildo, it took great effort to withdraw.

"Yeah baby… just like that," Santana grunted, pushing into Brittany's vice-like center. Brittany's head curled up into Santana's neck, holding her breath, teeth gritted, face contorted in ecstasy. Santana withdrew just enough so she could slip her hand between them and draw circles around Brittany's clit. Brittany was impossibly wet, and Santana's fingers slid around the nub in sloppy circles. She thrust in part way a few times as she pleasured Brittany's clit, caused Brittany's head to drop back and her jaw to go slack.

Brittany moaned between gasps and then held her breath again, back arching, gritting her teeth.

Santana thrust in all the way, pushing her hand flat onto Brittany's clit.

"Ssss… Santanaaa!" Brittany cried as her orgasm continued to shake through her.

Santana gave one last, forceful thrust, causing Brittany's fingers to dig into Santana's flesh. Brittany's body went limp a few seconds later, legs releasing their hold around Santana's waist, hands falling onto the sheets. Santana held her from above, letting her body become still for a few moments. Santana ducked her head to place soft kisses on Brittany's collarbone as it rose and fell. She reached a hand up to brush hair out of Brittany's eyes.

"So beautiful…" Santana murmured over Brittany's eyelids. "So sexy…"

Brittany opened her eyes halfway, as if awakening. She smiled up at Santana, still breathing heavily. "That," she panted, "was amazing."

Santana smiled, happy to see Brittany so satisfied. "I'm glad you liked it," she murmured. "I liked it, too."

"I'm _still_ enjoying it," said Brittany, pressing her hips up ever so slightly, pointing out that the dildo was still inside her.

Santana grinned and slowly slid the member out of Brittany, sending one last shudder through her as the head popped out onto the sheets. Brittany sighed in contentment, reaching down to help Santana remove the harness. Santana slipped out of the straps and hung the contraption around the bedpost at the end of the bed. She lay down next to Brittany, taking the corseted girl in her arms.

"Do you want to take this off, B?" Santana asked, running her fingers up the lacing of the corset as Brittany curled on her side into Santana. She figured it must have been very tight.

Brittany didn't respond, just tilted her head up to place a quick kiss on Santana's neck. "Give me a minute," she said, breath slowing.

Santana wrapped her arms closer around Brittany, listening to her breathing. "Anything you want, B," she murmured, running her hand up the back of the corset and resting it on the moist skin between Brittany's shoulder blades, "Anything you want," she echoed.

Santana lay there, content, for several minutes. Brittany's breathing slowed until it was so gentle, Santana wondered if she might be asleep. She tried to look down and see without waking Brittany up. As she did, Brittany murmured, "I love you, S."

"I love you, too, B," Santana said, kissing the top of Brittany's head.

Brittany opened her eyes, rolling off Santana so she could look at her. "That," she repeated, "was amazing."

"Good," said Santana, patting between Brittany's shoulder blades. "You're not thinking of going back to the other team, though, are you?" she teased.

"No way," Brittany declared with a smile, "That was a very convincing argument for the ladies."

"Aw," said Santana affectionately, squeezing Brittany's shoulder back into her chest, "we're glad you chose us."

"Mmm," Brittany hummed, "Me, too," she agreed. "I'm still a switch hitter, though."

"Hmm…" replied Santana, "I'll have to work on that."

"Good luck!" Brittany chuckled. "I was born this way, baby."

"And thank god…" Santana added.

"There is, however," Brittany began, "something I _do_ need to work on." She sat up with a coy smile on her lips.

"What's that?" Santana asked warmly, gazing at Brittany above her in her corset. Brittany ran her fingers up the inside of Santana's thigh, sliding them through Santana's dripping folds. Santana's eyes went wide.

"Oh!" said Santana, surprised, suddenly remembering how aroused she was.

Brittany sucked her fingers into her mouth, causing Santana to tremble and open her legs a few inches. Brittany crawled to the base of the bed and reached for the strap-on.

"Wait, I dunno, Britt…" Santana said doubtfully, closing her legs.

"Why not?" Brittany shrugged.

"It's… it's not really my thing," Santana stammered.

"You don't have to like guys to enjoy using a strap-on, S. Lots of lesbians do it," Brittany assured.

"I guess…" Santana responded, still dubious.

Brittany slipped off the bed, stepping into the harness. "You like when I fuck you, right?" she asked, head tilted to the side as she fastened the buckles.

"Of _course_," said Santana, rolling her eyes at the ridiculous question.

"So, it's just me fucking you with a strap-on. I'm still Brittany; still a girl. Just using a toy."

"Well, when you put it that way, it sounds pretty appealing…" Santana responded, the flirtation returned to her voice.

"Yeah, I think so, too," Brittany murmured, leaning over Santana, breasts spilling out of the corset. "Now spread your legs…"


	32. I Remain

**Chapter 32: I Remain**

Chapter title and soundtrack: "I Remain" by Alanis Morissette, from the _Prince of Persia_ soundtrack.

A/N: Thank you so much to terriblemuriel for her help with this chapter!

A/N 2: Brittany and Santana would like to take this opportunity to remind you that, while sharing sex toys is fun, it should only be done with thorough cleaning between users, while using condoms that are changed between partners, or within an established, monogamous relationship in which both partners have been tested for STIs. Trust them, they're _crazy_informed!

* * *

><p>Continued from previous chapter…<p>

* * *

><p>Santana obliged and opened her legs, albeit hesitantly. She was pretty sure – no, definitely sure - that she preferred Brittany's fingers – no, Brittany's tongue – to a piece of silicone. But since when was she not willing to try something new in bed? Maybe she was convinced it would remind her of her attempts at being straight in high school. She looked up at the ceiling as Brittany settled on her knees between her legs.<p>

"Hey," Brittany murmured, brushing her knuckles across Santana's cheek as if to wipe off the lingering hesitation. "I won't do anything you're not okay with. If you don't like it, we'll stop." When her voice was so soft and reassuring like this, Santana could swear Brittany glowed a little bit.

Santana nodded, lips pursed. Brittany leaned down to kiss her, forcing Santana's lips to release. Santana was trying to relax, reminding herself this was still the girl she'd made love to hundreds of times. But as she felt the dildo brush against the inside of her leg, she moved her leg outwards, avoiding contact with it.

Brittany was on her knees as she leaned over Santana, still corseted, propped up on her elbow over Santana's shoulder. Santana felt very small beneath her.

Brittany's fingertips were feather light against Santana's thigh. Only as they approached the apex of Santana's legs did her short nails press in and drag down slightly on the flesh of Santana's inner thigh. The combination of soft and forceful was something Santana had gotten used to with Brittany.

Brittany brushed her lips against Santana's cheek, hovering over her. "Do you want to be on top?" she whispered, grazing the pads of her fingers across Santana's sex.

Santana hesitated before shaking her head.

"Okay," Brittany murmured as she peppered kisses along Santana's cheek and forehead. Santana could feel Brittany's nipples brushing against her chest as Brittany leaned over her. "I'll be gentle."

Brittany put a little more pressure in her fingertips as she slid them up and down Santana's center. Santana shivered at the light touch, eager for more. She relaxed, drawing her knees up further. Brittany understood this as a request and pushed two fingers inside Santana.

Santana always felt warmer the second Brittany pushed inside, and incredibly wet, although the wetness never surprised her. It was as if she was letting Brittany touch her inner fire, the thing that drove her to excel in all she did. Letting Brittany touch and bait that fire felt wonderful, as if Brittany could stir it to a conflagration. Brittany's fingers coaxed it, beckoning, challenging it to take over. Santana started to let go of her anxiety, surrendering to the growing pleasure in her belly. But before she could fully ignite, Brittany withdrew her fingers. Santana groaned, frustrated, until she felt pressure on her sex as Brittany positioned the silicone against her. Suddenly the fire reversed into an icy anxiety. Brittany ran the dildo up and down Santana, coating it with Santana's natural lubrication.

"Ready, baby?" Brittany hummed.

Santana nodded, biting her lip.

Brittany guided the phallus with her hand as she pressed in slowly. Santana tensed, feeling immediately this would be a stretch. Brittany pressed until the head was almost all the way inside Santana.

"Ow," Santana winced. Brittany pressed in half an inch more and it burned, stretching too tight. "OW!"

Brittany froze, trying to be as still as possible, but her position supporting herself with just her elbow caused her to tremble a little. "Too much?" she asked.

Santana knew pulling out suddenly would make the pain worse. She panted, not from pleasure, but to distract herself from the uncomfortable pressure inside her. She didn't feel like she was ripping, but the skin inside was being pulled too tightly and was getting too hot to be pleasurable. "Just… just stay right there," she said through gritted teeth.

"Keep breathing… try to relax," Brittany offered, her eyes widening just enough that Santana knew she was worried.

Santana broke her pattern of panting to force herself to exhale slowly. Brittany leaned down to kiss her neck as much as she could without moving inside Santana. Santana took in another breath and exhaled, calmer this time. She felt her muscles release a little bit.

"You okay?" Brittany asked.

Santana nodded, eyes still closed.

"Do you want me to keep going?"

Santana opened her eyes and looked down, seeing that the dildo was halfway inside her. She paused before nodding. She had gotten this far; she wanted to at least give it a fair try before writing it off.

As Brittany pressed in another half inch, Santana didn't wince, just pursed her lips and closed her eyes again.

"You're doing great, baby," Brittany encouraged, swallowing.

Santana let out a little grunt. Brittany was true to her word; she was being gentle. Brittany started to withdraw, easing the pressure inside Santana. Santana exhaled in gratitude. Before the head emerged, Brittany pressed back in, still slowly, but going deeper. Santana made an effort to breathe, urging her muscles to relax enough to let the fake member slide further inside her. Some of the uncomfortable heat subsided.

"Open your eyes, sweetheart," Brittany murmured.

Santana's eyes fluttered open, her gaze flitting over Brittany's face; her mouth, her cheeks, her nose, her eyes all rained soft, warm love down on her. Santana smiled and felt her muscles let go. Brittany pressed in, and this time she was able to push in all the way.

"You did it," Brittany purred, grinning.

Santana nodded as she adjusted to the feeling. She felt full, but other than that, it didn't feel like sex with boys at all.

"Do you still want me on top?" Brittany asked.

Santana nodded again. She was being unusually quiet tonight; once again, she was letting Brittany show her how to let go.

Brittany slowly began moving the dildo in and out of Santana. She started small, not withdrawing or pushing more than an inch. But as Santana adjusted to the feeling and started to unwind, the movements became bigger. Without realizing, she started making little moans and rocking subtly up against Brittany, letting her know she was beginning to enjoy it.

Santana delighted in the way Brittany moved on top of her; it was not at all like the boys she'd slept with. Not only did the corset accentuate Brittany's curves, Brittany's hips moved in a distinct pattern that Santana found incredibly sexy. While boys had always pistoned directly in and out without grace, Brittany's hips made elegant figure eights as she thrust.

"It's good," Santana breathed.

Brittany smiled down at her, continuing her rhythm. She made the next figure eight a little bigger, thrusting deeper. Santana let her hips rise to meet the motion.

"I've been wanting to do this to you for a while now," Brittany admitted in a whisper.

Santana responded by smiling and reaching her hand down between them and attempted to wiggle underneath the harness to touch Brittany. Balancing on one elbow, Brittany reached down to move Santana's hand away.

"Don't worry about me right now," she said with authority. "You can touch yourself, though. I'd like that."

Santana nodded up at Brittany, eyes wide in submission. Her hand rested on her stomach as Brittany undulated on top of her several times. Seeing that Santana's hand hadn't moved, Brittany lifted it and directed it towards Santana's clit.

"Touch. It'll make this even better."

Santana started making light circles around her clit, as if smudging chalk into a canvas in perfect rhythm with Brittany's figure eights. Santana exhaled at the symmetry between them, tilting her head back. Brittany looked down between them, watching as the phallus slid in and out, swallowing hard as she watched Santana pleasure herself. Brittany leaned her head down to kiss Santana's neck. Santana began rubbing more firmly between her legs as Brittany nipped and sucked at her neck. As she did, Brittany's breasts and corseted torso rubbed against Santana to their choreographed rhythm. Brittany's mouth traveled up the side of Santana's neck and came to lick and suck on her ear. Hearing the wet noises from Brittany's mouth made Santana delirious. Brittany looked down between them again and began whispering things into her ear.

"I doing this to you... you look _so_ sexy right now." Brittany's breath was hot against Santana's moistened ear.

Brittany put her effort into several more figure eights while she licked Santana's ear, making Santana moan.

"Ugh, I love it when you make that noise…"

Santana's fingers sped up until they were furiously rubbing her clit, feeling every part of her body tense. She didn't need to make herself moan for Brittany, the noises just escaped from her throat without warning.

Brittany kept whispering, "I'm gonna make you come _so hard_…"

Santana was plunged into ecstasy. Brittany was the ocean, and waves crashed over, around, and inside Santana. The way her muscles clamped around the fake member, threatening to crush it, made the rapture much more intense. Her legs trembled and her lungs collapsed at the weight of her orgasm, and Brittany continued thrusting, slightly less gracefully, until Santana was able to breathe again. When Brittany heard Santana gasping, she slowed her hips a little, but kept the same depth and intensity to their rhythm.

"Oh, god… Britt," Santana panted, overwhelmed. She moved her hands to Brittany's hips, trying to still them, but she was too exhausted to have much effect.

"Keep going, baby," Brittany murmured, continuing to thrust as she reached between them to replace Santana's hand with her own. "Again."

"No…" Santana's plea was insincere, and Brittany took over rubbing where Santana's hand had been, still thrusting.

"Britt…" Santana whimpered. "Britt!" she cried, feeling another release quickly building.

"Come for me again, baby," Brittany murmured into Santana's ear.

"Oh, god!" Santana moaned loudly. Her feet dug into the mattress, thrusting her hips and back up to curve into Brittany's. "Oh, god, YES!" Santana yelled, muscles completely rigid, limbs locked and sex throbbing.

Brittany minimized her thrusting as their bodies floated back down onto the mattress. When Santana was lying flat again and her breathing returned, Brittany made the movements subtler until her hips were still and only her hand made slow, lazy circles around Santana's clit. Santana's breathing was ragged against Brittany's cheek. Brittany pulled the dildo out of Santana, detaching it from the harness and dropping it to the floor. Her hand made a few more circles, softly caressing Santana's swollen sex. Brittany heard Santana's final panting: three descending sighs. She stilled her hand and just breathed with Santana.

Santana's limbs wrapped around Brittany, asking to be held. Brittany ran her arm under one of Santana's shoulders, pressing her up into her chest protectively. She ran her other hand around Santana's waist, lying flush against her. She rolled to the side, pulling Santana into her. Santana's body molded into Brittany's like she was made of warm dough and Brittany just held her, feeling Santana's gorgeous fragility.

Santana exhaled and smiled but kept her eyes closed. "That was _so_ much better than I thought it would be."

Brittany grinned.

"Remind me not to doubt your ideas in bed again. Ever," Santana sighed.

"Mmm, I won't," Brittany said, kissing Santana's hair. "Hey baby?" she asked.

"Mmm?" Santana mumbled.

"Before you fall asleep can you help me take off this corset?"

Santana giggled. "Of course, sweetheart." She mustered her strength and sat up. Brittany rose a second later, twisting her torso so Santana could undo the lacing.

"Geez, how'd you get this on, Britt?" Santana wondered aloud as her fingers struggled with the taut ribbons.

"Mad skills," Brittany mumbled, feeling her lungs expand as the garment was gradually loosened.

"Well I approve of the ensemble wholeheartedly…" Santana muttered. She finished loosening the corset and helped Brittany wriggle out of it. Brittany unclasped the straps of the harness and wiggled out of that as well. Reaching for the covers, they lay back down, eyes shut before their heads hit the pillow.

"I love you," they murmured almost simultaneously. Eyes still closed, they grinned at their timing. They leaned forward, not needing to open their eyes for a soft kiss goodnight.

* * *

><p>Santana chose her favorite black and white blazer to wear to her first presentation. Her palms were sweaty, gripping a whiteboard marker as she watched the students file into the health classroom. Most were hunched under their backpacks, looking unnecessarily morose. Some students made eye contact, but most just slouched into their chairs.<p>

After the seats were filled, the host teacher called attention to Brittany, Brian and Santana. It was essentially the same introduction as last time. "I expect you all to give our speakers your full attention. We're very lucky they took the time to come speak to us today, and luckier still that they will be presenting in both English and Spanish. Put everything on your desk away."

Santana turned to write their first names on the blackboard under the number for the LGBT Teen Hotline. The classroom was silent and she realized she was supposed to go first. The whiteboard marker squeaked as she finished writing her name. She took a deep breath.

"Channel Holly Holliday," Brittany whispered into Santana's ear.

Santana grinned, turning away from the whiteboard. "¡Hola, clase!"

Just like their performance at Nationals, the rest was easy. Santana and Brittany, with Brian providing backup, educated and entertained the class. If Santana was unsure about something, she looked to Brittany. She translated everything Brittany and Brian said, adding her own humorous commentary, watching the faces of the Spanish-speaking students intently. She had an overwhelming sense of justice; she knew what she was doing was important and could change lives. She couldn't get enough of it.

In the car on the way back to campus, it was Brittany's turn to congratulate Santana.

"I knew you'd be perfect," she said, a look of pure adoration on her face. "The students were really impressed."

"Thanks," Santana grinned, feeling her neck get a bit warm. She was still high on the feeling of justice. "That was a million times better than I expected it to be."

"I told you!" Brittany said with a smug grin

"Sorry I doubted you, Britt."

"It's okay. Sometimes you have to experience things for yourself. I really liked the way you handled that question, by the way."

"Which one?"

"That one boy who kept making gross comments about how hot we were together. He asked why we're so girly if we like girls."

"What did I say?" Santana asked. She remembered the student Brittany was talking about, but couldn't remember everything she had said over the past hour.

"You said that every person should be able to express themselves the way they feel best and being gay has nothing to do with appearance."

"Yeah, well, you know… I'm pretty awesome like that," Santana shrugged with a smile. "In my head I silently asked him why he was so well-dressed if he was such a dickhead. His answer wasn't as good as mine."

Brittany scrunched up her nose as she laughed, patting Santana's leg. "You did good, S."


	33. Hot for Teacher

**Chapter 33: Hot For Teacher**

Thanks to terriblemuriel for her excellent guidance with this chapter!

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><p><strong>A year and a half later, April 2014<strong>

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><p>"Mmm… feels good Britt," Santana mumbled into her pillow.<p>

Brittany was straddling her back, giving her a massage. Brittany's hands were strong and capable as they roamed Santana's skin and coaxed her muscles into relaxation.

Brittany was famous for her massages. After a sprain during a track meet the year before, Brittany had become interested in Sports Medicine. She started taking classes in physiology, exercise psychology, kinesiology and therapeutic massage. She found the classes to be easy and fascinating. Her coach, who had been the teacher for one of her kinesiology classes, offered her a part-time job helping in the campus Sports Rehab and Physical Therapy Center a few days a week. Brittany loved it, and Santana certainly didn't mind Brittany coming back to their room and running her hands all over her, feeling for muscles, joints and tendons, applying what she was learning to Santana's body. Sometimes Brittany would explain a particularly gruesome injury while pressing or pushing on a spot in Santana's knee or ankle, making her skin crawl at the description. Santana was always asking for one of Brittany's therapeutic massages, which Brittany almost always obliged. Sometimes Santana wasn't sure how she felt about Brittany running her hands over other people's bodies, even if it was strictly professional or academic. But when she saw how passionate Brittany was about her work, Santana decided her minor jealousy was a small price to pay for Brittany's happiness. After all, she got to sleep in her arms every night.

"Ow!" Santana yelped as Brittany's thumb dug deep into a knot in Santana's right shoulder.

"That's a big knot, sweetie. How did that happen?" Brittany cooed as she smoothed her palm over the area.

"Textbooks and LSAT prep books," Santana grumbled. "They're so heavy."

"Poor baby," Brittany soothed, pressing the heel of her hand into the knot gradually. "You shouldn't study so much. All work and no play makes Santana a dull girl," she pouted.

"I'm not going to get into Law School if I don't study, Britt. And I play plenty - you and Kelsey make sure of that," Santana grunted, closing her eyes as Brittany worked out the knot.

It was true; Brittany could always tell when Santana was too stressed, which was often, and she enlisted Kelsey to help drag Santana out of the library and onto the dance floor. Santana always had a great time, but by the next day, it was back to the grindstone.

"What's got you so stressed this time?" Brittany asked, running her thumbs down the indents on either side of Santana's spine.

"Latin. I fucking hate it. It doesn't make any sense. All the words get jumbled together; sometimes it takes four words to say something, but then you change the speaker and it's only two. Like, what the hell?"

"Aw, it's not _that_ hard," Brittany shrugged. "It's just like learning Spanish."

"I never had to _learn_ Spanish, Britt. The fine administrators at McKinley didn't realize I was fluent. I sat in the back of the class and texted."

"Well, I love Latin. I've gotten an A every semester."

"I just don't get why Latin is so hard for me," Santana grumbled. "It's the only class I don't have an A in. It makes me mad. Plus I _need_ to know it. There are so many Latin terms in law school."

"Maybe you need a tutor," Brittany suggested.

"All the Latin tutors here are creepy intellectuals who spend the sessions quoting dead Greek people and movies no former cheerleader has ever seen."

"So you tried?" asked Brittany, moving her hands to Santana's sides, drawing the skin up towards Santana's spine.

"Once. It was boring and the guy couldn't stop staring at my tits."

"What if we made it more interesting?" Brittany suggested, a coy smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Like how?" whined Santana. "Dead languages just aren't exciting. That's why we call them dead."

"I bet I could make it exciting," said Brittany, slipping her hands under Santana's torso to hold her breasts.

Santana's heart sped up.

"Let's a play a game," said Brittany in a low voice. "I'll say a phrase in Latin. If you translate it correctly, you'll be _rewarded_." She squeezed Santana's breasts gently at the last word.

Santana gulped. "I'm in."

"Good." Brittany removed her hands and slid off Santana. She walked over to the desk chair and sat down.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"To sit at the desk like a teacher does. Sit up straight, Santana," Brittany said, trying to sound serious. She crossed her legs and put her hands on her knees, folded.

Santana rolled over and sat up slowly.

"Put on your shirt."

Santana rolled her eyes and grumbled as she put on her shirt, not bothering with her bra.

_"__Amo cultus tuos__,"_ Brittany said with a smile, raising an eyebrow.

"I like your outfit," translated Santana, smirking as she looked down at her shirt. Her nipples were practically poking holes through the material.

Brittany nodded, taking off one of her socks. "_Puto Kelsey et Sasha una bonae esse__._"

"Something good about Kelsey and Sasha?" Santana guessed. "Something about what a clever matchmaker you are?"

Brittany had seen the longing looks Kelsey and Sasha cast at each other, but they always seemed to miss one another. So Brittany had arranged a dinner with both, made up an excuse to leave after ten minutes, and feigned innocence when both girls questioned her individually about it afterwards. Kelsey and Sasha had been dating for almost a year now, and things were going strong.

Brittany shook her head. "I said 'I think it's good Kelsey and Sasha are together.'"

"Oh. Yeah, me too," agreed Santana. "They're cute."

"_Gaudeo te et Sasha nunc amici esse_."

"Something… _amici_…. You're glad I'm Sasha's friend now!" Santana said, proud she had figured it out.

"_Etiam_!" said Brittany, removing her other sock.

Through the Pre-Law Society, Santana and Sasha had gradually become friends. Santana had grown to admire Sasha through a few classes where they studied together. She had discovered that Sasha was incredibly smart, driven, and passionate, yet cool-headed. It was a winning personality combo for her future profession. As they had become good friends, Santana had begun to admire her for her confidence and bravery to be her authentic self in the way she dressed, too.

"_Te amo_," murmured Brittany.

"You love me," Santana grinned as Brittany took off her watch. "That's the same as Spanish."

"_Latina et Spanish similes sunt_," said Brittany, nodding.

"Latin and Spanish are similar," translated Santana.

Brittany took off her sweater. "_Mihi__pulchra__es_."

"You think I'm beautiful," said Santana, grinning and tilting her head to the side as she gazed at Brittany.

Brittany got up from the chair and sat on the bed. "_Omnia vincit amor; et nos cedamus amori."_

"Something about love," deduced Santana.

Brittany nodded. "It's a Vergil quote; 'Love conquers all things; let us too surrender to love.'"

"You sound way sexier than those tutors when you quote dead people."

"_Latine dictum, sit altum videtur_," said Brittany, nodding.

"Huh?" asked Santana, eyes squinting.

"'What's said in Latin always sounds more interesting,'" explained Brittany.

"Since when are you fluent in _Latin_, Britt?" Santana exclaimed. "It's really hot, actually."

"I'm definitely not fluent. And I could be messing all the words up. But I like Latin. Dr. Lucas is my favorite. I always do well in a class when I like the professor."

Santana nodded, contemplating the surge in Brittany's academic confidence since arriving at college. In high school, Brittany had never liked any of her teachers. They didn't like her either, or any of the other students for that matter. Santana had done well in high school simply because she knew she was smart and couldn't care less if her teachers liked her. But Brittany's confidence had been low due to poor grades in middle school. It had been discovered late in eighth grade that Brittany's allergy medicine, which she took to prevent her from sneezing from the dander in her cats' fur, was making her spacey and slightly dizzy. When she had switched allergy medicines and started high school, she became less spacey and incredibly coordinated, but she lacked confidence that she could do well in school; her reputation for being dumb preceded her. For Brittany, it was _so_ disappointing when her teachers didn't care; she felt little motivation to try, even if she could concentrate now. But in college, her teachers _did_ care. She may not have been a straight-A student, but she didn't feel stupid anymore. Santana was so glad that other people could see how smart Brittany was.

"_Formosa et prudens es_," Santana smiled, reversing their roles.

Brittany grinned back. "You think I'm smart and beautiful."

Santana took off her shirt. "_Volo__basiare te_."

Brittany leaned towards Santana, pressing her down into the mattress, giving her the kiss she had asked for. "_Da mi basia mille_."

"Give you," – Santana kissed Brittany once – "a thousand" – twice – "kisses." She put her hands behind Brittany's head, deepening their kiss.

Brittany reached for the hem of her own shirt, breaking their kiss as she pulled it off. "You're good at this game," she encouraged.

Santana was beginning to see what Brittany meant; there were similarities between Spanish and Latin.

"_Volo amare te_," Brittany murmured, reaching under Santana's skirt, preparing to remove her panties.

"I want to make love to you too," Santana responded, her voice low as she lifted her hips, allowing Brittany to remove her underwear. She looked down at Brittany's outfit; she was wearing a pink bra and a pleated skirt. The setup was too good to pass up.

Santana sat up, suddenly energized. "But in English. And now _I_ get to be the teacher."

"Oh, really?" Brittany challenged with a smirk, dropping Santana's panties on the ground.

"Uh huh," Santana said. She slipped off the bed and went into the closet, pulling a white button-down shirt off a hanger and slipping it on. As she buttoned it, she walked to the desk chair and stood behind it with her hands resting on the back. "Sit," she commanded.

Brittany paused for a moment, lifting one eyebrow, then grinned and slid off the bed to sit in the chair.

"Do you know why I called you here this afternoon, Brittany?" Santana asked, sliding around the side of the chair. Her nipples poked out through her shirt inches from Brittany's face.

"No, Miss Lopez. Did I do something wrong?" Brittany used her meekest voice.

"I called you here because I don't think this course is challenging enough for you. I wanted to give you more interesting material to work with."

"Wait, what class is this again?" Brittany asked, stepping out of role, asking for clarification of their game.

Santana didn't break character. She turned and walked back behind the chair, running her hand across Brittany's shoulder. "This is exactly what I mean. If you can't remember what class it is, obviously it's not interesting enough to you. As your teacher, I have to take some of the blame for that."

"No, no, you're a good teacher, Miss Lopez."

"Most teachers don't like a suck up, Brittany," Santana warned, leaning over the back of the chair.

"Sorry."

Santana leaned down further, brushing her lips against Brittany's ear. "But I'm not most teachers."

There was a pause.

"I… I know. I think you're the best, Miss Lopez. Sorry if I'm spacey during your class."

"I didn't say you were spacey. You seem deep in thought." Santana walked around the front of the chair, crouching in front of Brittany with her knees apart. She knew Brittany could see up her skirt. "Tell me, Brittany… what thoughts run through your mind during my class?" she cooed.

"I think about…" Brittany trailed off, staring between Santana's legs.

"Yessss?" Santana drawled.

Brittany forced herself to look at Santana's face. "I wonder what your life is like."

"_My_ life?"

"Uh huh. Like, do you read those poems we were talking about when you're home alone?

Santana pursed her lips. She knew Brittany was challenging her when she chose poetry, which was Brittany's favorite class, and a subject Santana knew very little about. But she could rise to the occasion.

Brittany continued. "I mean, I don't even know if you live alone… you probably have a boyfriend or something."

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"Oh. Well..… those poems were just… really… I don't know. They make me feel funny inside."

"Good funny or bad funny?" Santana asked, running her hands up and down Brittany's thighs, playing with the hem of Brittany's pleated skirt.

"Um… Good funny? I think?"

"Lots of women have that reaction to poetry, Brittany. It's okay," Santana murmured.

Brittany looked back between Santana's legs.

"Do you know what those poems were about?" Santana asked, voice gentle and sweet.

Brittany shook her head. "They're confusing."

"Was there one in particular that confused you?"

Brittany tried to control her smirk. Santana realized she was making it too easy for Brittany to take over. Brittany could quote erotic poetry in circles around Santana. "The Renee Vivien poems."

"Oh, yes… those are particularly beautiful," Santana murmured as she stood up slowly and walked behind the chair. Dragging her fingernails lightly from Brittany's temples back through her hair, she purred into Brittany's ear. "Which one made you feel the most funny inside, Brittany?"

"The Touch."

Santana knew Brittany was smiling devilishly as she baited her. Santana twisted Brittany's hair tightly, warning her to stay in character. After a moment she loosened her grasp and draped Brittany's hair over her shoulder. She bent forward, clothed breasts pressing into the back of Brittany's head, hands running up and down Brittany's arms.

"Do you know what that poem is about?" Santana murmured.

"Yes."

Santana grabbed Brittany's hair again.

"I mean _No_, Miss Lopez."

"Do you want me to explain it?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Miss Lopez."

"Yes, _please_, Miss Lopez," Santana corrected.

"Yes, please, Miss Lopez," Brittany mumbled.

"That's better."

Santana knew Brittany thought she could flip Santana from dominant to submissive if Santana knew less about the "class" than Brittany did. Santana tightened her grip on Brittany's hair and commanded with a smirk: "Recite the poem, Brittany."

Brittany took a breath. She was tempted to laugh, but Santana's firm grip on her hair reminded her to play along for Santana's sake. "_My ingenious fingers wait when they have found, the petal flesh beneath the robe they part._"

"Uh huh. Do you know what that means?"

"Something about a flower?" Brittany played along.

Santana released Brittany's hair and stepped away from the chair, walking in a circle around the Brittany. "The thing about poetry is that sometimes words mean more than one thing," Santana explained. She crouched in front of Brittany again, fingers toying with the hem of Brittany's skirt. "What else could she mean by _petal flesh_?"

"I don't know, Miss Lopez."

"I'm going to show you. Stand up, Brittany."

Brittany stood up, pretending to be hesitant. Santana slid her hands up the sides of Brittany's legs under her skirt, over her hips, and hooked her index fingers into Brittany's panties. She pulled them down, grinning wickedly. She noted the wet spot on the pink fabric that had been directly between Brittany's legs.

As Brittany's underwear came to rest around her ankles, she stepped daintily out of them, her bare feet making the softest of whispers against the linoleum floor. Santana stood up and pressed her breasts into Brittany's, causing Brittany to lose her balance and sit suddenly.

Santana crouched down again, running her hands over Brittany's thighs. She wasn't sure if she was still in character as she smirked, knowing Brittany would be surprised when she began quoting the poem where Brittany had left off: "_How curious, complex, the touch, this subtle art; As the dream of fragrance, the miracle of sound-_"

"Santana, how do you-"

"My name is Miss Lopez," Santana reprimanded, standing suddenly and placing her hands on her hips. "Don't be disrespectful. I'm using my free time to give you extra material to work with."

"I'm sorry, Miss Lopez," Brittany mumbled as she looked up through her lashes at Santana.

"Scoot forward."

Brittany slid forward, so her pelvis was resting on the edge of the seat.

Santana crouched and repeated the previous stanza: "_How curious, complex, the touch, this subtle art…_"

Santana ran one finger slowly up Brittany's slippery slit and pressed Brittany's legs open with her other hand. Brittany shuddered. Santana lifted the skirt, tucking it up against Brittany's slouched stomach.

"_As the dream of fragrance…_" Santana licked the finger that had just trailed through Brittany. She bent her head to lick Brittany's clit, teasing as she flicked her tongue over the nub just once. Brittany made a small noise in the back of her throat: a half moan, half grunt.

"_The miracle of sound…_" Santana grinned at the timing. She lifted her head and ran her hands over Brittany's thighs, coming to grasp her hips firmly. She pressed her torso closer to Brittany, sliding between her knees.

"_I follow slowly the graceful contours of your hips…"_Santana hummed as she stretched her neck to kiss Brittany's shoulder "_the curves of your shoulders…_" She trailed kisses along Brittany's collarbone, stopping to gently suck on Brittany's pulse point. "_Your neck…_" Brittany gasped in pleasure and anticipation of the next phrase; "_your unappeased breasts…._" Santana firmly grasped Brittany's covered breast with her left hand, causing Brittany to arch her back and slump further down the chair.

Santana placed her mouth against Brittany's ear and murmured slowly, "_In your white voluptuousness my desire rests…_" She slid her other hand over the top of Brittany's thigh, finally coming to touch the place Brittany wanted her most. Brittany shuddered and turned her head away from Santana, urging her to continue kissing her neck. "_Swooning, refusing itself the kisses of your lips,_" Santana finished. She began an elegant dance with her fingers in and around Brittany's sex. Brittany gripped the sides of the chair and tilted her head back, making tiny grunting noises. When Santana saw the telltale signs that Brittany was close, she bent her head and began lapping softly at Brittany's clit.

Brittany let out a noise Santana had only heard a few times before. It was a noise that could be interpreted as a moan of pain, but Santana knew it meant she had succeeded in dominating Brittany. She smirked triumphantly between Brittany's legs. The only way to top Brittany was to beat her at her own game. Santana entered her then, thrusting her fingers in and out, pressing her tongue down flat, tracing letters and shapes in the combined wetness of Santana's mouth and Brittany's sex. Realizing her tongue was making patterns, Santana deliberately spelled out _I LOVE YOU_ against Brittany. As her tongue finished the sentence, she curled her fingers and sucked, and Brittany convulsed, tipping the chair backwards. Santana grabbed the side, holding it steady so Brittany didn't tip over, mouth continuing to draw the pressure out from Brittany, fingers beckoning.

Finally Brittany gasped and slumped forward, securing all four feet of the chair on the ground. She panted, astonished at Santana's successful seduction. She hadn't even realized she'd surrendered; she grinned in admission that Santana had won. Santana grinned back, then realized they were supposed to be role-playing.

"I think you and Renee Vivien might have something in common, Brittany," Santana murmured.

Brittany nodded, still panting. Santana withdrew her fingers, wiping them on Brittany's schoolgirl skirt. She got to her feet, adjusting her clothes and smoothing her hair. Brittany regained some composure, sitting up straighter and placing her skirt back over her thighs.

"You have some more interesting material now. That should help you remember what class you're in."

"Yes," mumbled Brittany.

"Yes, _who_?"

"Yes, Miss Lopez."

"That's better. Now… it's _your_ turn to show me that you learned what I just taught you." Santana lifted her skirt and straddled Brittany's legs.

Brittany smirked and leaned forwards, licking up the side of Santana's neck as she undid the buttons on Santana's shirt. "Yes, Miss Lopez."

As soon as the shirt was in a heap on the floor, Brittany wasted no time bringing her fingers to smear Santana's wetness up her center. With that one touch, Santana exhaled a bit of her dominance out as she leaned into Brittany. Every whimper and gasp that followed pushed Brittany more into command. Brittany reached behind her own back to unclasp the bra Santana hadn't yet removed.

When Brittany slipped her bra off Santana realized she had accidently dropped the role-play and pondered how to pick it back up again. Brittany withdrew her fingers and placed her hands under Santana's ass cheeks, lifting, carrying, and dropping her onto the bed. Brittany unzipped Santana's skirt and slid it off, Santana's hips shimmying in an attempt to help. When it had been discarded, Brittany pressed Santana's knees toward her chest and out, putting her glistening center on display against the bed sheets. Brittany's mouth flew to Santana's sex, lapping hungrily, coating the bottom half of her face in shiny arousal. Santana gasped, letting out a low groan. She had grown to love Brittany going down on her. In fact, it was her favorite thing when they made love now.

"Yesss..." Santana moaned. She gripped the sheets; she knew she was slipping out of dominance. She clung to it tightly; "You're my… you're my favorite student, Brittany," she gasped, hand tangling into Brittany's hair between her legs.

Brittany lifted her head an inch. "No, you're _my_ favorite student, Santana," she warned, her breath hot against Santana's inner thighs.

Santana just moaned, pressing Brittany's head down. Brittany resisted.

"Say it, Santana."

"I'm your favorite," Santana whimpered.

Brittany didn't budge.

Santana looked down, seeing Brittany's raised eyebrow. She sighed in resignation, still pushing Brittany's head. "I'm your favorite student," she moaned.

Still no movement from Brittany.

"_Please_, Miss Pierce!"

Brittany rewarded the surrender by returning her mouth to Santana's pulsing center, ravishing it with renewed fervor. She slipped her fingers inside Santana and was rewarded with a noise that was half whimper, half moan. Brittany kept pushing, licking, sucking and flicking until Santana found herself surrendering as ultimately as she could.

"_Sanctum__infernum dulcis_!" shrieked Santana as her body clenched from head to toe. _Holy sweet hell_. Brittany grinned into Santana, continuing to lick and suck until Santana went limp.

Santana's legs flopped down on the sheets. Brittany wiped her chin with the pleats of her skirt and crawled up to hold Santana. Santana curled into Brittany.

"Nice Latin, baby," Brittany commented, kissing Santana's forehead. "I think we just discovered a new definition of the phrase '_Cum Laude_.'"

Santana chuckled, eyes closed. _"Venisti, vidisti,__vicistime,"_she murmured. _You came, you saw, you conquered me._

Brittany giggled, resting her head on Santana's chest. "Fast learner…"

"You're a good teacher, Britt," Santana mumbled with a smile as she drifted off to sleep.


	34. Another White Dash

**Chapter 34: Another White Dash**

Chapter title and **soundtrack** song: "Another White Dash" by Butterfly Boucher

Thank you to my Beta, Mia!

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><p>Time: Late August, <strong>2016<strong>

* * *

><p>Santana looked at Brittany in the passenger's seat. Her head rested against the window, blissfully, adorably asleep. The sun made her hair shine and her freckles wash out as her skin reflected the light. Her lips were slightly parted, chest rising and falling subtly. Santana was glad the road was smooth. She wanted Brittany to sleep in peace.<p>

As the road curved slightly, the tassels hanging from the rearview mirror swung and caught Santana's eye. Two matching black tassels with small pieces of plastic shaped in two identical _2016's_ hung together, theirs strands slipping together as they swung, making it impossible to distinguish one from the other.

What had pleasantly surprised Santana about living with Brittany was that they hadn't merged into more similar people. In fact, they had explored their separate interests more than ever. Santana spent lots of time studying and prepping for the LSAT; when she wasn't doing that, she was meeting with the Debate team or the Pre-Law Society. Brittany, after recovering from her injury, had excelled on the track team and in her work in sports medicine. In addition to her coursework in kinesiology, she had dabbled in many subjects: Latin, astronomy, poetry, women's studies and photography. She had also proven herself an adept matchmaker. Her first pairing, lasting a fruitful two and a half years, had been Kelsey and Sasha, who had dated until Sasha left for law school after Brittany and Santana's sophomore year. Brittany made other matches too, but that was the one she was most proud of.

College wasn't all activities and clubs and matchmaking and dancing. It was _hard_. Santana worked herself into the ground, pushing herself to be the best in every class, in every discipline. She had struggled with Latin, but with Brittany's help, Santana gradually got the hang of the language. Brittany's self-assurance had grown as she gained a reputation for being a brutal yet capable sports injury rehab assistant and masseuse; being able to help Santana with something academic only improved her self-image. Confidence looked good on Brittany.

And just when Santana thought everything was perfect, it was time to leave. She felt a pang of sadness as she thought about the things they were leaving behind. No more late Saturday brunches in the deserted dining hall with Kelsey and Brian, who had stayed in town after they graduated the year before. No more swimming in the campus fountain after midnight. No more sneaking through the back fence at My Sister's Room. She would miss the faint mildew smell in the stacks of the library and the way the sun shone between buildings through the library window, creating glare on her book for precisely ten minutes every evening. She would miss the feeling of power she got when she called each meeting of the Pre-Law Society to order. She would miss the bus rides to and from Debate Team competitions, and the celebrations at the bar after they won. She would miss Brittany running up to her on the side of the deserted track, breath coming out in cold, steamy puffs, checking to see how much time she had cut off her mile. She would miss lying in the middle of that track at night, snuggled up to Brittany under a blanket whenever there was a meteor shower, humoring Brittany's passing fascination with Astronomy.

She was brought back to the present when Brittany stirred beside her. Brittany's eyes opened, squinting in the bright August afternoon light.

"Mmm… sleepy…" Brittany murmured.

"Well, yeah. We were up all night. Of course you're sleepy," Santana cooed, patting Brittany's thigh.

A week before graduation, they had discovered that the trap door to the roof at the top of the metal ladder in the stairwell of their dormitory was unlocked. Although it was August and the dorms were closed now, they had managed to sneak back in on their final night in Boston. A few tears fell between them as they looked over the campus silently and said goodbye to their college years. They sat there until the morning. Watching the sunrise might have been the only thing they had never done together before.

"What was your favorite part, S?" Brittany asked, rubbing her eyes.

"Of last night? Being with you, of course."

"No, I mean college."

"Still being with you," Santana smiled.

"But what else?" Brittany asked. "Pick five things."

"You… giving me massages."

"What _else_?"

Santana sighed. "Hanging out with Kelsey and Brian."

"We made some pretty amazing friends, didn't we? It was weird without them senior year. At least we did Saturday brunches."

Santana nodded. "I miss Sasha, too."

"One of my favorite moments was that party you threw for her when she got into Harvard Law," Brittany said. "It was so sweet, and it made me realize how far you've come. I was _so_ proud. And I know she appreciated it a lot."

"She would have done the same for me," Santana dismissed.

"She would have," agreed Brittany. "I'm so glad you got past your issues with the way she looks."

Santana shrugged. "It takes a special kind of confidence to be yourself the way she does."

"You have that confidence too, you know," said Brittany softly, putting her hand on Santana's thigh.

"Maybe now," mused Santana, resting her hand on Brittany's as she kept her eyes on the road. "But I didn't always. I probably wouldn't have gotten a boob job in high school if I did."

Santana had never indicated anything but satisfaction with the results of her summer surgery, but in recent years, she had been conflicted.

"Do you wish you hadn't?" Brittany asked.

"Sometimes," Santana admitted. "But not enough to get it reversed. I mean, I _like_ them. But it's sad to me that I was so insecure back then."

"You had a lot to deal with," soothed Brittany. "Don't beat yourself up over it."

"The feminist part of me is a little ashamed, too," Santana admitted. "I'm glad our friends never found out."

"There are lots of ways to be a feminist," Brittany assured. "You can be a feminist _and_ have implants. I'm a big fan of the 'and' in life."

Santana smiled. "I like the 'and' in my life, too. She's beautiful _and_ smart," she said, squeezing Brittany's hand on her thigh. "Santana _and_ Brittany…"

That's how it had been for the past five years; five long, blissful, years of Santana and Brittany. They had spent every night of college in each other's arms, save a few when they had fought – but they always made up the next day. It was never hard to remember why they loved each other.

"What about you? What were your favorite parts, B?"

"I liked my job a lot. And of course summers," sighed Brittany. "We had time to just relax. Dr. Lucas' house was way nicer than the dorms."

Brittany's favorite professor, Dr. Lucas, had invited the girls to stay in her house over the summer while she traveled through Italy and Greece after sophomore, junior, and senior year. The first summer, right after their first year, they had gone back to Lima, which had been somewhat of a train wreck. Santana's mother had decided to "rehabilitate" Santana back into heterosexuality, resulting in a long line of dates thinly disguised as dinner guests. In the middle of one particularly tedious evening, Santana had revolted, stating that if her mother couldn't accept that she was with Brittany and not interested in men, she would leave. Dolores had stood with her arms crossed at the bottom of the stairs, expecting Santana to cave and return downstairs to finish the meal with her flustered and confused date. Instead of returning to the table, Santana threw her belongings in her car and spent the final month of summer at the Pierce house. They hadn't gone back to Lima for more than a week at a time since. Instead they spent the summer at Dr. Lucas' house in Arlington, sitting on the porch drinking sangria or lemonade, reading novels, and dozing in the sun. At night they would curl up in a hammock and listen to the crickets.

"We got pretty lucky Dr. Lucas liked you so much," said Santana. "I loved our summers too. I was so stressed out the rest of the time."

"You worked so hard," agreed Brittany. "But it totally paid off. _Cum laude_…" she said with a smirk.

Santana chuckled. Their joke never got old. "Don't forget Captain of the Debate team, President of the Pre-Law Society _and_ Phi Beta Kappa," she added. "But yeah, '_Cum Laude_' was definitely the highlight."

"I liked apple picking every fall," said Brittany, eyes closing. She yawned.

"Me, too," said Santana. She grinned, picturing Brittany smiling at her through the branches of their favorite orchard.

Brittany shifted, tilting her head back against the window, eyes still closed. "Do you think they'll have apple picking in New Haven?" she murmured.

"I hope so," replied Santana. "If not, we'll drive to the nearest orchard. I want to go every year."

"Me, too," agreed Brittany. "We can make home-made apple pie in our new kitchen…" She yawned again. "Sorry I'm so sleepy."

Santana smiled. Brittany was so adorable when she was tired. "Go to sleep, princess," Santana murmured. "I'll wake you up when we get there."

"Okay," Brittany mumbled, half asleep already.

Santana smiled and sighed, gripping the wheel. They had managed to fit all their belongings into the trunk and backseat, minus a few boxes they had shipped ahead of time. It seemed remarkably simple for two whole lives to fit in six by four feet, barreling down I-90. As they drove away from Boston, Santana felt sense of urgency to get to their destination. They weren't in a hurry, but she was excited and scared as hell.

Santana looked at the GPS; one hour to go until they arrived in New Haven. There was an apartment waiting for them; a real apartment, not just a dorm room. She couldn't help but feel grown up. Yet some part of her still felt like that seventeen-year-old girl who had bared her heart to Brittany in the hallway. And yet another part felt fiercely protective and proud. She couldn't let Brittany down in any way. She was going to work as hard as she could. She wanted to be able to provide for Brittany everything she could ever want.

Santana could hardly believe it was real; she was headed for law school.

At Yale.

With her beautiful Brittany by her side.


	35. Don't Sit Under The Apple Tree

**Chapter 35: Don't Sit Under The Apple Tree**

Chapter title song: "Don't Sit Under The Apple Tree," a jazz standard. Not intended as a soundtrack.

Thanks Mia!

* * *

><p>Time: <strong>October 2016<strong>

* * *

><p>"Catch!" Brittany called from her place at the top of the ladder. She tossed an apple down to Santana, who barely caught it.<p>

"Careful, Britt, they'll bruise!"

"It doesn't matter if they bruise!" Brittany giggled.

Santana rubbed the apple against her shirt and took a bite. As she chewed, she let her gaze wander from Brittany's ankles, which were at eye level, up her long legs to where they disappeared under her shorts. Brittany's legs had never looked better. She had kept running after college although there was no longer a team to run with. Santana loved when Brittany would come home after a run, sweaty and panting, bending over to rest her hands on her knees to catch her breath. Just the thought of Brittany doing that made Santana lick her lips. Whenever she was home after Brittany went running, she would toss Brittany in bed or drag her into the shower, feeling her pant as she pressed against her, although this time for another reason entirely. Santana swallowed.

"We're making pie with them anyway."

"Pie?" asked Santana, her thoughts still in the shower pressed against Brittany.

"Of course!" said Brittany. "Now that we have an oven?"

Apple pie. Right.

"So this guy at the gym told me there's this place nearby that's looking for a physical therapy assistant," Brittany called from the top of the ladder.

"Hm, really?" Santana asked, still trying to drag herself out of her daydream.

"Yeah, he gave me a number to call. I'd really like to work if I can…"

Santana refocused her attention. "That'd be great, Britt. But don't feel like you have to. We can get by."

"Living off student loans? Don't be silly. I love working, and if it puts us a little less in debt, even better."

_Us_, Santana heard; it meant Brittany took everything that came with her - her quirks, her flaws, her unsupportive parents, and her student loan debt. Even after five years, her stomach still fluttered when Brittany made comments like that.

"Okay. Well, I hope you get it!" Santana said.

"Me too," said Brittany, nodding as she reached for an apple high in the branches. "It would make me happy. Are _you _happy, Santana?"

"Of course, B," Santana smiled. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno, isn't law school really stressful?"

"Well, yeah… but it's learning about stuff I love. My classmates are intimidatingly smart and competitive. I fit right in," she grinned.

Brittany chuckled and bit into an apple, holding it between her teeth.

"And then I get to come home to you every night. Whatever else happens, I know everything's okay."

Brittany bit through the apple, slurping the juice from the skin before putting it in the basket. She turned around and climbed down the ladder and set the basket down on the ground. She chewed and looked at Santana with a smile. She swallowed.

"C'mere."

Brittany reached for Santana, pulling her close. She put her hand on the side of Santana's head, cupping her ear as she parted her lips. Tilting her head, she brought her bottom lip to rest perfectly between Santana's. Santana's lips reacted, pressing together against Brittany's lower lip. It was delicate and graceful; soft kisses like this were perhaps more powerful than lustful, frantic ones. Brittany slid her tongue against Santana's upper lip, darting under it before slipping away. Santana's tongue followed where Brittany's had disappeared, seeking its playmate. Brittany slowly let her tongue meet Santana's. Santana tasted Brittany and apple juice. It was fresh and comforting and sweet.

There was no apple pie in the world that could taste better than this.

* * *

><p><strong>April 2017<strong>

* * *

><p>Santana's phone buzzed. She looked up from her book, reading the text:<p>

_From Sasha: Call me, Yalie. We got things to talk about_.

Santana grinned, unlocking the screen and hitting the _Call_ button. "What's up, bitch?" she cheered when Sasha picked up.

"Not much," chuckled Sasha. "I just realized we haven't talked in like, forever."

"I know, seriously, what happened? Did you find another friend you like better than me? Is that why you haven't called?" Santana teased. She walked over to the armchair and settled into it, smiling at the sound of her friend's voice.

"Maybe, maybe…" Sasha teased back. "How's that other law school you guys have over there? What's it called again?"

Santana rolled her eyes, smiling. "Yale is fantastic. Tough as hell, but awesome."

"Oh right, Yale. Hey, you know what a Yale grad and Harvard grad have in common?"

"What?"

"They both got into Yale."

"Shut the fuck up, Sasha!" Santana laughed. "Yale is _just_ as good as Harvard. _Better_, I think."

"That's _your_ opinion," Sasha laughed heartily. "So. I have news," she said, her tone turning more serious."

Santana hummed, waiting for Sasha to relay her news.

"I'm uh… I'm gettin' married."

"You're _what_?" Santana cried in disbelief. She didn't even know Sasha was dating someone.

"You heard me."

"To _who_?" Santana exclaimed.

Sasha let out a loud, roaring laugh. "Her name's Carmen."

"Sounds hot."

"Oh, she is. She's from Argentina."

"Very nice! Reppin' the Latin ladies. How long have you been seeing her?" Santana was concerned; clearly Sasha hadn't been dating her very long if Santana had never heard of her.

Sasha laughed again. "I know, we're totally U-hauling, right? We've been seeing each other about six months. She rocks my world. I can't believe I haven't told you about her."

"How'd you meet?"

"She's a law student here, too. We had a class together."

"Awesome. Yay for higher education bringing people together."

Sasha let out a giggle that was girlier than Santana had ever heard; she realized her friend was genuinely happy. She softened a bit.

"Aw, Sash, I'm so happy for you," Santana cooed.

"Thanks," Sasha said, her tone almost bashful. But that's actually not all I called to tell you."

"You have _more_ news? Oh god, tell me you didn't get her pregnant."

Sasha laughed again. "No, no, there's no baby. But I called to tell you that after graduation, Carmen and I are moving to Argentina."

"You're _what_?" Santana gaped. "_Why_?"

Sasha let out a resigned sigh. "Because Carmen's student visa is going to expire."

"Why not get married here and stay? Massachusetts has gay marriage."

"What are they teaching you at Yale?" Sasha teased. Then her tone turned serious and a little bit resigned. "She can't get a green card unless it's a federally recognized marriage."

"Really?" Santana frowned.

"You're a law student and you didn't know that?"

"No… I … it's my first year, I haven't spent much time on immigration law yet," Santana stammered.

"Okay, okay… I guess you get a break. But yeah… it's pretty much one of the only things that we can't get around. Everything else… hospital visitation, property ownership, guardianship… all that can be basically compensated for with a good enough lawyer and some red tape. But citizenship… nope."

"That fucking _sucks_!" Santana exclaimed.

"Heterosexual privilege rears its ugly head yet again…"

"No kidding… Ugh, that makes me _so_ mad." Santana felt a low ground-fire spread through her abdomen. Once again, the law was not on her side, and this time it was forcing her best friend out of the country to be with the one she loved. "When are you leaving?" she asked, concerned she wouldn't get to say a proper goodbye.

"We'll be around for a few months. Carmen's trying to get a job that will process some paperwork to get her visa extended for a few years, but it's not likely. Not many companies want to hire knowing the new employee might be deported because of some fucked-up visa lottery system. Even though they can't legally discriminate against her for that… it does happen."

That only fueled the fire in Santana's gut. "Well I really, _really_ hope she finds something. I just couldn't handle you living that far away."

"I know… but there's always Skype. And airplanes."

"Those are hardly any consolation," Santana grumbled.

Sasha must have sensed Santana's anger because she changed the subject. "What are you doing this summer?"

Santana perked up. She had just received some good news regarding her summer. "I'm interning at a law firm here in New Haven!"

"Awesome, which law firm?"

"Kelley and Fischer."

"Good for you! How's Brittany?"

"She's great. She got a job as a physical therapy assistant right after we moved her. She's cooking me dinner right now," Santana grinned, listening to the sizzling and the pots banging in the kitchen.

"You've got it _made_, Lopez," Sasha remarked.

"Pretty much," Santana agreed. "Apparently Britt's a really good cook. Who knew?"

"She's full of surprises," Sasha said, as if she weren't surprised at all. "Tell her I said hi, okay?"

"I will. We should all Skype soon. I know she'll want to hear all about Carmen."

"Totally. Well, hey, I've gotta get back to studying, but I'm glad we had a few minutes to chat."

"Me too. Next time call before making big decisions like that, 'kay? I can't handle all this news at once," Santana teased.

"Will do. Later, Lopez!"

"Bye Sash," Santana grinned. "Yale's better!" she jibed before hanging up.

* * *

><p>A few months later, Santana teetered on her heels as she crouched to file some documents. It was her third day at Kelley &amp; Fischer, the law firm she was interning at for the summer between her first and second year at Yale. She thought she was doing well, but with these high-powered lawyer types, she could never tell. She sighed as her fingers flitted over the file tabs in the drawer, not seeing the one she was looking for.<p>

"Well, look who finally escaped from Lima…" Santana heard a smooth female voice behind her say.

She spun around.

"They told me the new intern was a catch," said the woman. Santana could hear a smirk in her voice.

Santana stood up as she took in a pair of kitten heels, a black, high-waisted skirt and blue button-down shirt. Reddish-brown locks cascaded over a creamy neck and collarbone.

"Elinor!" Santana exclaimed, alarmed. Elinor looked older and more intimidating in such a professional outfit; it was definitely a sophisticated upgrade from their summer days of clinging dresses and jeans. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Nice to see you, too," Elinor chuckled.

"Sorry!" Santana shook her head, composing herself. "But really… what _are_ you doing here?"

"Last time I checked this was Kelley & Fischer," Elinor said with an amused shrug.

"As in _Elinor_ Kelley?" Santana asked in disbelief. "You have your own _law_ firm?"

"I wish!" Elinor giggled. "My uncle is Jonathan Kelley - the guy with that big corner office over there," she pointed.

"Oh! So… you work here?"

Elinor nodded. "Since I graduated from Capitol two years ago. I passed the bar last year."

"Since when did you want to be a lawyer?" Santana squinted. She had a thousand questions about how they had both ended up here.

"Oh, it's a long story…" Elinor sighed. "How about I tell you over lunch?"

"Um… okay," Santana said, biting her lip and glancing to the side. She wasn't sure if she wanted to have lunch with Elinor. Would it be weird?

"I usually go to the sandwich place on the corner. I'll swing by your cubicle on my way out. Around twelve thirty?"

"Yeah, uh, sure," Santana nodded. She might as well give it a try.

* * *

><p>Santana paid for her sandwich and sat down at the rickety table by the window with Elinor.<p>

"So what's new, Lopez?" Elinor said with her usual peppiness, unwrapping her sandwich. "Where are you in school?"

"Here," replied Santana. It was an unspoken rule that people didn't say 'Yale' in New Haven.

"Impressive!" nodded Elinor as she took a bite. "I always knew you were super smart. Where are you living?"

"I live in East Rock…"

"Okay…" Elinor nodded, chewing.

"With Brittany," Santana added for good measure. She wanted to make sure Elinor knew she was spoken for.

"You got your girl _and_ you got into Yale! You lucky bitch..." Elinor muttered with a smile.

"Erm… yeah," Santana nodded. She was very proud, but the social rules indicated she was supposed to pretend to be humble, right? At least about Yale. "How's Jordan?" she asked as she took a bite.

"I wouldn't know…" Elinor shrugged.

"Oh," Santana said, looking down at her sandwich.

"Not everyone ends up with their first big love, you know," Elinor said with a wink. "But I'm glad to hear things worked out for you."

"Sorry. I just assumed… the way you talked about her, it seemed so perfect."

"Well, it was… and it wasn't," Elinor replied vaguely.

"Did you two ever work it out after that summer?" Santana asked. She had been curious when they parted, but had decided it was best not to call or text.

"No," Elinor shook her head. "It had run its course - not that it didn't suck. Turns out, you have to get over someone the hard way, or you don't get over them at all. She gave Santana a sad smile.

Santana felt bad for Elinor. Elinor was such a kind person and she had hoped things had worked out for her. "I'm – I'm sorry," she sputtered.

"Oh, don't be!" Elinor said cheerfully, taking out her wallet. "I'm happy now. Broken hearts don't last forever. I've been with my girlfriend Sophie for two years."

"That's good," Santana said with relief.

Elinor pulled out a picture of herself with another woman. Sophie was pretty: chin-length blonde hair and big, dark brown eyes. In the picture she was wearing a strand of pearls and a pale green, fitted button-down.

"She's cute," said Santana, glancing at the photo briefly. "What does she do?"

"She teaches middle school."

"And you met…?"

"Through mutual friends."

"Cool. So… what happened to sociology?

"I got halfway through a masters in sociology before I realized that studying society made me angry. I wanted to actually _change_ society, to make it better. Law seemed like a good way to do that."

Santana was much more comfortable talking about professional matters. "How virtuous of you," she sneered, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of water.

"Hey, don't knock it! Not all lawyers are out to bend and twist the law."

"Maybe. Seems awfully altruistic though." Santana crossed her arms with a smirk.

"Well, you know me… What about you, then? Why law?"

Santana uncrossed her arms and held up her palms in a saucy shrug. "I like to argue."

Elinor laughed, shaking her head.

"No, that's not the main reason of course," Santana admitted. "I dunno… something about it just… motivates me. I can't articulate it well. But I'm totally focused and I _feel_… like, in my stomach… this need to see things go the way I think they should."

"Justice," Elinor nodded. "I understand. I get that too."

"Yeah… yeah, that's what it is! Justice."

"Look at us, Lopez," Elinor said. "From bartending to the Bar Association. We've come a long way."

"I'll drink to that," agreed Santana, lifting her water bottle.

"Back in the day, you would drink to _anything_," Elinor teased.

"That's true," agreed Santana. "But these days, not so much."

"Well, _look_ who's all grown up and responsible..."

"Responsible, maybe," said Santana with a smirk.

"Well hey, let me take you out for a drink after work," invited Elinor. "We can celebrate you going to a fancy law school and I can give you the inside scoop on Kelley & Fischer."

Santana hesitated. Lunch was one thing; drinks was another.

"I don't know… that might be weird."

"Why would that be weird?"

"Because..." Santana didn't want to verbalize her hesitation, but she knew it was because of their history.

"Would Brittany have a problem with it?"

"No…"

"Look, I'm not gonna force you to hang out. I just think it's possible for two lesbians to be friends and not have it be complicated," Elinor shrugged.

Santana contemplated that. It was true, two lesbians could be friends and not have it be complicated. After all, she'd been close with Sasha for years and it never felt weird. Still, she had a history with Elinor. But she might as well give it a try. "Well… I guess drinks might be okay."

"Okay. Check in with 'Headquarters' and let me know."

"Britt will be fine with it," Santana smiled. "She's not the jealous type. But I'll let her know."

"Hey, invite her along, if she's free!"

"I would, but she's working tonight," Santana said, feigning regret. Santana was glad she had a valid excuse; she wasn't sure she was prepared to make that introduction.

"Well soon, then. I'd love to meet the woman who's got you tamed."

"How does everyone _know_ that about her?" Santana exclaimed, exasperated. She knew it was true, but still, it made her tough exterior seem fallible.

Elinor just laughed and took another bite of her sandwich.

* * *

><p><strong>Time: October 2017<strong>

* * *

><p>"So nice to finally meet you!" Brittany chirped, placing her hand on Santana's back as she extended her other hand across the table to Elinor. "I'm glad you decided I was cool enough to come to your Thursday night happy hour."<p>

Santana turned her head to smile up at Brittany.

"Oh, you were always cool enough," Elinor laughed. "We just weren't sure _we'd_ be cool enough, talking shop and boring you."

"Please, Santana does it all the time at home," Brittany dismissed with a smile as she took off her coat and put it on the back of her chair.

"Hey!" Santana protested. "You love hearing about work."

Brittany smiled as she mouthed _you're right_ to Santana.

"Well if it's any consolation, Sophie wasn't invited until tonight, either," Elinor responded, gesturing to the petite blonde sitting next to her. "Brittany, Sophie. Sophie, Brittany."

"Hi, Sophie," Brittany said with a warm smile, extending her hand over the table again.

"Hi," greeted Sophie. "Sit down, the first drink is on us."

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Santana said as Brittany sat down. "We can get our own drinks."

"No, no arguments," Elinor insisted. "I remember what it's like, living off loans and ramen noodles."

"Well Brittany just got promoted. She used to be a part time physical therapy assistant, but now she's full time. She's definitely the favorite," Santana boasted.

"Oh, really?" asked Sophie, eyebrows arching in delight. "That's wonderful. It must be so interesting."

"Yeah, I like it," shrugged Brittany. "I like helping people."

Sophie gestured to a waiter for a refill of her drink. He came to the table to clarify her gesture and she decided to order a pitcher of sangria for the table.

"How'd you get into that?" Sophie inquired.

"I hurt myself running my first year in college, and I got really interested in sports medicine then. So I took a bunch of classes and I ended up getting a job with one of my professors. It just kind of went from there."

"Very cool. Is that what you want to do?" asked Sophie.

Brittany shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe. I guess I don't have one thing I'm really passionate about like all of you," she said, looking around the table.

"Sometimes passions change," Elinor offered. "I was _sure_ I wanted to be a sociologist, but I'm so glad I didn't go down that path. I like law much better."

"I wanted to be chef. Now I teach middle school math," Sophie added. "Go figure."

Brittany tucked her hands under her thighs and nodded, contemplating. "Santana always knew what she wanted to do, though," she said, gesturing proudly with her chin.

"Well… when I find what I want, I tend not to waver," Santana grinned, putting her arm around Brittany's waist and giving a soft squeeze.

"Aww," said Elinor. She winked at Santana, as if to say '_you go, girl_.'

The pitcher of sangria arrived and Sophie ceremoniously poured a glass for each girl. As she filled up Santana's, Santana yelped, "When… When! I'm driving tonight."

"So, Sophie, Santana hasn't told me how you met Elinor," Brittany said.

Elinor and Sophie looked at each knowingly.

"Well…" Elinor began.

"We wish we had a better story," Sophie picked up. "But the truth is we met on match dot com."

"_Hold_up," Santana smirked, "That is definitely not what Elinor told me."

"Yeah… sometimes I lie just because… well, it's boring."

"So is the vague 'we met through mutual friends' line you gave me," Santana teased. "Online dating is the thing now, I guess. No shame, no shame…"

"What was it like, meeting someone in person after talking online?" Brittany asked. Santana loved the way Brittany was always genuinely interested in other people.

"Well, they're never like you expect them to be. I was pleasantly surprised with Sophie," said Elinor, gazing at her. "She was even prettier than her pictures. She could keep up a good conversation, she was polite. And plus… I mean, come on, she's _hot_!"

The girls giggled.

"So it wasn't awkward?" Brittany asked.

"With other dates, yeah, but not Sophie. We pretty much hit it off right away," Elinor's gaze was fixed on Sophie in utter adoration. "My cheeks hurt from smiling when I got home that night."

"Don't you mean the next morning?" Santana teased.

"Hey!" Elinor said with a giggle, tearing her gaze from Sophie and pointing a finger in mock threat at Santana. "I don't sleep with people on the first date!"

Sophie raised an eyebrow as she lifted her drink. She looked into the glass as she muttered, "Yes you do," before taking a sip, looking away with an amused grin.

Brittany and Santana burst out laughing and Elinor put a hand over her eyes, shaking her head and smiling.

"What about you two? How'd you meet?" asked Sophie.

"Well…" began Brittany, looking to Santana.

Santana draped her arm around Brittany with bravado. "First day of tryouts for cheerleading. Britt walked into the room in her little skirt with her pom-poms and I was just like… 'damn, girl, how about you and me go back to the locker room-'"

"That is _so_ not how it happened," Brittany interrupted, laughing and waving her hand in front of Santana's face.

"Wait, you two got together in _high school_?" asked Sophie, incredulous.

Brittany and Santana nodded.

"But didn't…?" Sophie looked at Santana and pointed to Elinor.

"Uh, yeah, um, briefly," Santana stammered, suddenly flushed. "That was before Britt."

Brittany placed her hand on Santana's thigh under the table, reassuring her. "That was my fault. I chose a _boy_ over her before I came to my senses," Brittany said, plastering a guilty look on top of her smile.

"Oooh, snap!" said Sophie.

Santana chuckled. Artie was something they could laugh about now. It had been long enough.

"So how'd she get you to dump him?" Sophie asked Brittany.

"Just by being her awesome self," Brittany shrugged, gazing at Santana and patting her knee. "That was more than enough."

Santana felt herself warm from the inside out.

"How long has it been now?" asked Sophie.

"Six years," Brittany and Santana said in unison.

"_Damn_, that's a long time!" Sophie remarked. "I think in lesbian years that's like… twelve hetero years. Is the sex still good?"

Santana was stunned at the brashness of the question. Nothing was off-limits with Sophie, apparently.

"Definitely," nodded Brittany.

Santana cringed inside. She didn't exactly want to spend any amount of time listening to her girlfriend talk about sex with her ex and her ex's girlfriend.

"Remind me to ask you guys what your secret is once you've had a few more drinks…" Sophie said with a glint in her eye, refilling her glass.

"Soph, you _just_ met them," Elinor chuckled. "Try not to overwhelm them."

"Sorry," grinned Sophie. "I have no filter sometimes. Probably because I spend all day with middle school kids."

"Hey, no problem. I love talking about sex," Brittany shrugged.

Thankfully Sophie went in a different direction, probably because of the appalled look Santana was trying to conceal. "So you guys never took a break or anything?"

"Nope," said Brittany, shaking her head and looking at Santana proudly. Santana beamed back.

"Aww…" cooed Elinor. "Look at that. Six years and they still make puppy dog eyes at each other."

Brittany and Santana smiled at each other and nodded. They sipped their drinks and the conversation turned to work, family, and the hidden gems of New Haven.

* * *

><p>"That was so fun, S!" exclaimed a very tipsy Brittany. "I thought lawyers were boring, but Elinor is <em>crazy<em> awesome," she said, tripping over the doorway as they exited the bar.

"Hey, not all lawyers are boring!" Santana defended with smile, offering her arm to Brittany.

"Sorry!" Brittany giggled, leaning onto Santana as the door shut behind them. Maybe she was slightly more than tipsy. She put her finger to her lips and whispered loudly, "Lawyers are boring except for you!" She gave Santana a sloppy, wet kiss on the cheek as they walked arm in arm down the sidewalk toward the car.

"Sophie's something, huh?" Santana commented, raising her eyebrows. "She just went right in for the kill, asking about our sex life."

"Well, I would want to know, too," Brittany laughed. "I mean, we _have_ managed to go six years without getting bored."

"Why do you think that is?" Santana wondered with a smile.

"Variety. You being _crazy_ hot. And the fact that we both have a big _appetite_," Brittany grinned, reaching behind her to give Santana's ass a firm squeeze. She ran her tongue along Santana's ear.

"_Someone's_ frisky tonight," remarked Santana.

Brittany nodded. "You're really hot when you use fancy lawyer words."

"Oh, really…" said Santana with a sly grin as they approached their car. "Well then... I'm issuing a subpoena for you to appear in our bedroom. Naked. Tonight."

"And if I fail to appear?" Brittany challenged.

"Then I'll have to take you into custody," Santana warned, pulling Brittany towards the car, grabbing her hands and pinning them behind Brittany's back on the side of the car. She opened the passenger side door and gestured for Brittany to climb in.

"Mmm, I think I'll be a cooperative witness," Brittany said, winking as she sat.

"Good choice," Santana smirked, shutting the door.


	36. Only Human

**Chapter 36: Only Human**

Chapter title and **soundtrack **song: "Only Human" by Jason Mraz.

A/N: Thank you to my Beta Mia for her careful eye and encouragement! And thanks for J.T. for everything that inspired this chapter.

* * *

><p><strong>Time: Memorial Day 2017<strong>

* * *

><p>"I'm so glad we actually got our act together to visit!" Brittany said as she hugged Brian goodbye.<p>

Brittany and Santana had managed to make a day trip to Boston to visit Kelsey and Brian. They would have loved to stay overnight, but had opted for a long afternoon of catching up over burgers and beer due to their chaotic work and school schedules. Because they were only going for the day, they had invited Elinor and Sophie, thinking it would be a fun combination of friends to introduce. They had been right – Kelsey, Brian, Elinor and Sophie got along famously.

"Seriously, you two have _no_ excuse to not visit more often!" Kelsey reprimanded with a smile. "It seems like you just got here, and you're leaving already. Not cool."

"I know, I know!" Santana apologized. "We miss being around the greatest lesbro-gay-mance that ever existed. But they keep me buried in coursework in New Haven, and Britt's work schedule is so erratic..."

"Annnd there are the excuses again," said Brian, shaking his head. "Tsk, tsk."

"I'm sorry!" Santana pleaded, laughing.

"Oh, my gawd, did you hear that? Santana Lopez just apologized for something," Brian feigned surprise.

"Yeah, call the snark police," Elinor said, "she's losing her game."

"I better get her home before she morphs completely into a proper lady," Brittany teased, hugging Kelsey as the group walked to the car. "Thanks for the food and the company; it was koala-tea as always."

"Our pleasure, ladies," Brian lilted. "Come back soon, and bring these two with you again next time," he said, pointing to Elinor and Sophie. "Elinor, do you want to take the rest of the beer you brought? God knows I don't need it going to my gut," offered Brian, patting his toned, flat stomach.

"No thanks," Elinor said, waving her hand. "Consider it our 'nice to meet you' gift."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Well, thank you, ladies, it was a pleasure meeting you. Brittany, Santana, stay badass."

"Bye!" they all called to each other as they loaded into the car.

They had been cruising down the interstate for about ten minutes when _Don't Stop Believin'_ came on the radio.

"_Oh_ my god, I love this song!" cried Sophie. "Turn it up, San!"

"Don't call her San," Brittany warned. "She doesn't like that nickname."

Santana kept her hands firmly on the steering wheel, thankful Brittany had spoken up.

"Oh, whatever, she'll live," Sophie dismissed. "Turn it up!"

Brittany reached for the dial, turning it just a bit. Sophie began singing along boisterously.

Brittany and Santana of all people had a special fondness for Journey, but bad backseat karaoke was not their favorite way to reminisce their Glee Club glory days. Santana glanced into the backseat in the rearview mirror.

Elinor put her hand on Sophie's knee and said quietly, "I think that's a little loud, baby."

"Aw, you're no fun. Sing along, Eli!"

Elinor just moved her hand away and looked out the window.

Sophie kept singing loudly until the song faded. Santana was relieved; she was tired from the drive there and from the excitement of seeing Kelsey and Brian again. It was also quite warm, and her skin prickled in the spots where the air conditioning hadn't evened out the temperature in the car yet.

"You know what other Journey song I _really_ love?" Sophie mused. "I really love _Remember Me_."

"Hm, I don't know that one," Brittany said, only half interested.

"Oh, it's awesome!" Sophie began belting, "_Say goodbye, close your eyes, remember meeee! Walk away, the song remains, remember meeee!_"

"I can't believe our high school show choir director never subjected us to _that_ lovely number," Santana said in her most deliciously condescending voice.

"Could you please pull over?" Elinor asked with a hint of urgency.

"Sure," agreed Santana. She had no idea why Elinor had asked, but the thought of sitting still for a moment without the road vibrating under her sounded appealing. She pulled onto the shoulder of the interstate.

Elinor opened her door as the car came to a standstill and got out. She shut the door and folded her arms tightly under her chest, walking away from the car along the interstate. Santana watched her in the rearview mirror as she gradually slowed her steps and stood with her back to the car.

After a few moments Sophie let out a dramatic sigh as she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened her door. "Ugh, _what_ is her problem. I'll go get her."

"No, I think we should-" Brittany's objection was cut off by the door slamming. "Never mind, then," she muttered.

"Sophie seems a little…" _drunk_, Santana thought, "… feisty."

"Is that what they call it now?" asked Brittany.

Santana watched in the rearview mirror as Sophie approached Elinor.

"Something tells me this is gonna go _super_ well," Santana scoffed.

"No kidding," Brittany said, watching in the side view mirror.

They watched as Sophie walked up behind Elinor, wrapping her arms around her. Elinor tried to shrug her off, but Sophie was persistent. What followed appeared to be a heated argument, viewed by Brittany and Santana as a silent movie in the mirrors. They might have been able to hear what the girls were saying if it hadn't been for the cars whooshing by every few seconds on the two-lane interstate beside them. Elinor gesticulated wildly while Sophie kept reaching toward Elinor, trying to hug her or touch her arms, a smile and a pleading look on Sophie's face. Elinor pointed to the car forcefully, her face stern and angry. Sophie folded her arms indignantly, pouting. Elinor walked a few paces further from the car. Sophie spun on her heels and scuffed back to the car haughtily. She climbed in the backseat, shutting the door.

"Party Pooper will be back in a moment. She just needs a minute to take the stick out of her ass."

Santana glanced sideways at Brittany, raising her eyebrows, saying nothing. She looked into the rearview mirror and watched as Elinor kicked a few pebbles off the shoulder of the road. Sighing, Elinor turned and walked towards them. Santana examining her fingernails as Elinor opened the door, pretending she hadn't been watching.

"Sorry about that," said Elinor in a forced casual tone, climbing in.

"Hey El, want to switch seats with me?" Brittany offered from the passenger's seat. "Santana has some legal stuff she wants to talk about."

"Sure," said Elinor, readily ducking back out.

Brittany and Elinor switched seats, buckling in without conversation. Elinor reached for the radio and turned it to the classical station. They drove back to New Haven without much conversation. Brittany, bless her, made comments about things as they passed, and Santana tried to pick up the thread of conversation. But with Elinor fidgeting in the passengers' seat and Sophie scowling out her window next to Brittany, it was a tense two hours.

* * *

><p>"Hey, where's Sophie?" Brittany asked as she slid onto her stool around the bar table two weeks later. "She never misses Girls' Night."<p>

"Not coming," Elinor dismissed.

"Everything okay?" Santana asked, eying Elinor.

Elinor shrugged as she motioned to the waiter.

"Want to talk about it?" Brittany offered.

"I guess…" started Elinor. "It feels weird to talk about her with you guys, though. Like I'm cheating in a way. Not _cheating _cheating, but… kind of betraying her."

"That's valid," said Santana, shrugging.

"Yeah…" said Brittany with hesitation. "But… relationships aren't these little sequestered things we keep separate from the rest of the world. Of course there are things you keep sacred between you… but we're around other people and sometimes we need their support. You can talk to us. We're not gonna blab."

Elinor sighed, folding a bar napkin into triangles.

"Sophie's fantastic. She's fun and smart and passionate and gorgeous and I really, _really_ love her."

"We know that," Santana assured. "But that doesn't mean she never does things that piss you off. So cut the preamble and spill."

Elinor took a deep breath and shut her eyes. "I don't like how much she drinks."

"You mean what happened a few weeks ago on the way back from Boston?" Santana asked.

Elinor shook he head. "Not just that. There have been a lot of things like that."

"Well… I've only ever seen her drink when we were all out together and we _all_ got toasted. It didn't seem _that_ out of the ordinary the other week," Santana remarked.

"I know. She hides it pretty well the rest of the time," mumbled Elinor, eyes still on her napkin.

Brittany glanced at Santana, as though asking her to give Elinor space to talk without commentary.

"It's okay to talk about, Elinor," Brittany encouraged in a soft, low voice. "If you're worried about it, we're here to support you. You were our friend first and we'll take your side every time."

Santana knew that Brittany had technically met Elinor and Sophie at the same time, but with that statement, Brittany had indicated that she accepted and _appreciated_ the role Elinor had had in Santana's life. Santana loved Brittany all the more for that.

"Thanks," muttered Elinor. She kept her eyes downcast as she stirred her drink, not taking the first sip.

Santana was struck by how morose Elinor seemed. Usually she was so upbeat, and even if she was tired, she smiled.

"So what's going on?" Brittany asked, her voice as gentle as ever.

Elinor took a breath, steeling herself. "Well, she drinks a lot of wine. I mean, a glass or maybe two at night is normal, right? But she has three or four… pretty much a bottle. Every night."

"That's a lot," Brittany agreed. "Especially since she's so small. I would be worried too."

"But the thing is, she always justifies it by saying she has a stressful job and needs to unwind. And she _does_ have a stressful job… god knows I couldn't handle the little shits she teaches for even five minutes… I just wish she could find another way."

"How long has this been going on?" asked Brittany gently.

"Probably since I met her. She just hid it well, and I was so blindly in love, I didn't want to see it. That was easy before we moved in together. But then…" Elinor sighed. "Last weekend it just got out of control."

"What happened?" asked Santana. Her whole body was tuned into Elinor with concern. She had never seen Elinor so dejected and sad.

"My parents were in town and we went out to dinner. Sophie had a lot. She's not the dancing-on-tables kind of drunk, but I still _knew_. Her eyelids were all droopy and she was laughing really loud. She mostly held herself together until we left, but I was _so_ mad. I don't think I've ever been that mad at her. I just wanted to have a nice meal with my family, you know?"

"Maybe she was just nervous around them?" Santana offered.

"No… she's fine with them," Elinor said with a wave of her hand. She took a breath, finding words. "I _hate_ that I always have to be the responsible one. I can never have more than one drink because I always have to _drive_." Elinor's growing anger was palpable as she looked away from the table, not wanting to make eye contact.

Brittany looked at Santana, worry crossing her face like a shadow. Santana knew that face; it was Brittany's protective face. Brittany looked back at Elinor.

"Hey, El?" Brittany said, reaching for Elinor's hand. "Let's have happy hour at our place today. I'll cook dinner and we can just talk."

Santana nodded in support of Brittany's suggestion.

Elinor nodded. "Okay."

An hour later, the girls sat down around the dining room table. Brittany had thrown together a delicious, simple dinner of noodles with spicy peanut sauce and steamed broccoli. She set plates in front of Santana and Elinor and took a seat in front of her own.

"Okay, so tell us what happened, El," Santana prodded. She wasn't entirely sure how to help, but she knew Brittany could pick up anything she was unsure about.

Elinor placed her napkin in her lap, smoothing it with her hands. "Well, in the in the car on the way home from dinner with my parents, she started singing all these ridiculous songs from when she was a Girl Scout or some shit - pretty much exactly what happened in the car on the way back fro Boston with you two. She was just _so_ over the top and I almost lost it. I'm tired of her being a fucking child while I always have to be the grown-up. So I told her calmly I really needed some quiet, but she just kept _pushing_ and pushing, trying to get me to sing along with her and telling me I was no fun and I was too serious."

Brittany had a hard time eating when she was so worried, and Elinor's food was untouched too so far. Only Santana found the distraction of food to be comforting.

Elinor continued. "When we got home, she kept talking to me in that sing-song voice and running her hands all over me. Things like 'Don't you loooove me?' and 'Baby, come on… I want to get you naked.' It was like she couldn't tell or didn't care how mad I was!"

Santana felt her stomach twist. She took another bite to calm it.

"It sounds horrible, but I felt like I was going to hit her. I was so, so angry. It was like the anger was taking over my body. I felt out of control."

Santana looked up, swallowing. "I totally know that feeling," she said. She _did_know. She had certainly felt that way with several people in her life: her mother, Quinn, Lauren, Azimio, and Puck, to name a few. She had actually hit Quinn and Lauren.

Brittany nodded. "Me too."

Santana was shocked. Brittany was such a gentle, nonviolent person, she couldn't imagine her getting angry to the point of wanting to hit someone.

Brittany continued. "It's such a fine line. We can believe we have all the self-control in the world, but when big feelings like that come up, we don't always. That doesn't make it _okay_, but it makes it more… understandable, I guess."

Santana nodded in agreement.

Elinor exhaled in relief. "I'm glad you guys don't think I'm a monster." She took her first bite of food.

"Of _course_ not," assured Santana. She had never felt older than Elinor, but tonight she did. Elinor seemed young and fragile.

Elinor swallowed and continued, a little less cautiously than before. "Sophie didn't come tonight is because we got in another argument. The day after that dinner with my parents, we had a long talk and agreed we wouldn't keep alcohol in the house anymore, and that we would take turns driving when we went out. But that only lasted a week. She called me on my way home today and just nonchalantly asked me to pick up a few bottles of wine for the house."

"That was shitty of her," Santana scoffed.

"I know, right?" Elinor said, holding up her hand. "And this isn't the first time. We agreed not to keep alcohol in the house twice before. But I'm starting to think she only agrees because she feels bad the day after we get in a fight."

"Is she usually like we saw in the car, just being really loud and goofy, or is she angry and emotional?" asked Santana

"Not usually. Once she got really angry, but usually her eyes get droopy and she's a little silly. She's not hard to be around if she isn't amped up from being around a bunch of people. But when I have a bad day or just want to spend quality time with her, she's not available. I feel kind of… alone." Elinor's eyes fell to her napkin again and Santana's heart clenched. Elinor of all people deserved someone who was available to her. Elinor was a very loving person.

"What happened when you agreed not to keep alcohol in the house before?" asked Brittany, taking a sip of her water.

"She asked me to pick up wine on my way home, just like this time."

"And did you?" asked Santana.

Elinor paused before nodding timidly, eyes still on her lap. She looked embarrassed. Santana's heart broke for her.

"I _know_ I shouldn't have," Elinor sighed. "I just don't want to make her mad. I know it sounds dramatic, but Sophie makes me feel absolutely crazy. Sometimes when we're together we're _so _connected and I'm like _yes_, this is the woman I love!" she said, a smile briefly dancing across her face. Then it fell. "But sometimes I look at her and wonder how I can ever trust her. I never know how I'll feel around her. If this were the first time something like this had happened, it wouldn't have been a big deal. But twice before she broke our agreement, and stuff like what you saw at Memorial Day happens all the time, and I just… I dunno, all this anger just keeps building up. She's always making promises, and we'll be good for a week, but then it ends and I feel crazy and angry again."

"I'm so sorry, El…" Santana murmured. She really had no idea things were strained between Elinor and Sophie. They seemed happy to the outside world. She had no idea what to say.

"The person you're building your life with shouldn't make you feel crazy, sweetie," Brittany said gently, putting her hand on Elinor's arm.

"I know…" Elinor said, a conflicting mixture of indignation and guilt crossing her face. "And to make things worse, our anniversary was three days ago and she gave me…" she stopped and sighed as she lifted her wrist out of her lap and revealed a sterling silver tennis bracelet. "She gave me this."

"How does that make things worse?" asked Santana, brows furrowed as she examined what was probably a very expensive bracelet, especially for Sophie, who eked by on her teacher's salary.

"Because… because how could I be so angry at someone who is so generous to me?" Elinor said, words catching in her throat. She lifted her hand to cover her eyes as they teared up. The diamonds in the bracelet sparkled. It was quiet for a moment as Elinor sniffled.

"People we love bring out the strongest feelings in us," Santana said quietly. "Being angry doesn't mean you don't love her."

Though her body was still turned toward Elinor, Brittany gave Santana and adoring smile. With that single look, Santana knew Brittany thought she was being a good friend. If Elinor was hurting, Santana wanted to do whatever she could to make her feel better.

* * *

><p>When Elinor had gone, Santana cleared the table. After scraping the dishes and putting the food away, she went back into the living room. Brittany sat motionless on the couch.<p>

"Britt?" Santana saw her eyes boring through the floor, seeing something not actually in the room. She softened, not wanting to startle her. "You okay?"

Brittany nodded, eyes still transfixed on the images playing beneath the carpet. Santana sat next to her, knowing she would speak when she was ready. She didn't have to wait long.

"Did I ever tell you about my dad?" Brittany asked, her voice coming from whatever memory had captivated her.

"What about him, love?"

"My dad's an alcoholic."

Santana frowned. She was certain Brittany was confused. There was no way the sweet, stately man she knew as Brittany's dad had a drinking problem. She had been around him a lot and had never seen him drunk. "Um… he is?"

Brittany kept nodding. "Yeah."

"But Britt… I've never seen him drink."

Brittany regained animation and looked at Santana. "Oh, I know. He's been sober since before I was born," she said proudly.

"Oh," Santana said, a little embarrassed. "I didn't know."

"He used to talk about it with me a lot. Especially in high school when he knew I was partying. I even went to a meeting with him once."

"Like A.A.?"

"Yeah. It was cool. I learned a lot."

"How has this never come up in all the years I've known you?" Santana asked, bewildered.

Brittany shrugged. "It's not something we make a big deal of. It's just another thing I love about my dad. I'm _so_ proud of him. Being sober for twenty-five years is a big accomplishment."

Santana had many questions, but she wasn't sure which were okay to ask. She didn't know anyone who was open about being a recovering alcoholic or addict.

Brittany's eyes were fixed on the wall above Santana's head, lost in thought. "I was thinking of telling Elinor about Al-Anon. I think she could really use it."

"You mean Sophie," Santana corrected.

"No, I mean Elinor."

"Elinor doesn't have a drinking problem," Santana frowned.

"Al-Anon isn't for alcoholics; _AA_ is for recovering alcoholics, but Al-Anon is for people who are _around_ alcoholics. Family and friends and stuff. My mom went when my dad was in early recovery. It's a place for them to talk about feeling crazy and out of control and angry and all those things Elinor was talking about, where other people understand. Because yeah, she has us, but we don't really know what she's going through. We can only support her so much. I think she needs other people who get it. Maybe we can talk to my dad and see if he has any advice on how to help her."

"Your dad always has advice," Santana smiled. "He's the perfect person to talk to."

"Let's Skype him," Brittany suggested, reaching for her computer and looking at the clock. "He's still up."

"Right _now_?"

"Yeah, why not?" Brittany said, opening her laptop. "He'd love to talk to us."

"Well you can talk to him about it, but I'd feel weird..."

"Psh, come on, you're like his third daughter."

"But I didn't know he was a… a…" Santana stammered.

"Recovering alcoholic," Brittany supplied.

"Yeah, _that_, until you told me two minutes ago. It feels strange to just start asking him for advice when he's never told me anything about it."

"I'm sure he'd be happy to share his story," Brittany said, opening the Skype application. "Or we could just ask about how to help Elinor."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," said Brittany.

The electronic dial tone sounded shriller than usual as they waited for Gordon to accept the incoming video chat. He answered, his round face flickering a few times before the connection was steady. "Britt-bee!" he grinned. "How are you?"

"Hi, dad," Brittany smiled back, waving.

Santana leaned closer to Brittany so she was in the camera shot. "Hi Gordon!" she chirped, waving.

"And Santana, too! I got a two-for-one. Boy, does this make my day."

"How are you?" asked Brittany.

"I'm doing well! Your mother and I were just talking about Hayley and her college applications. She's stressed out, but we know she'll find her way. It's all part of her path."

"She will," Brittany assured. "She's smart, she just needs to calm down sometimes. But I was actually calling to talk to you about something related to _your_ path."

"Something involving Bill W.?" Gordon asked with a grin.

"Yup," Brittany said. "We're worried about our friend."

Santana turned towards Brittany and whispered, "Who's Bill W.?"

Brittany turned and answered, "He's the guy that founded A.A."

Gordon chimed in, "People use his name to be discreet when talking about their sobriety. A code word, really, just like in the LGBT community. So what's going on, ladies?"

Brittany and Santana recounted what they had witnessed on their trip to Boston with Elinor and Sophie, as well as what Elinor had told them over dinner that night. Gordon listened intently, asking clarifying questions, nodding and at times biting his bottom lip in concern.

"Well, it certainly sounds like Sophie's got a problem," Gordon sighed when they finished recounting Elinor's side of the story.

"You think?" Santana asked. She was surprised to hear it stated so plainly. "I mean, she seems like she has her act together…"

"Some alcoholics do!" Gordon laughed. "It's usually not what you see in the movies. Not everyone is falling down and blacking out. Some people do lose their jobs or get a few DUIs, but not everyone. Alcoholism isn't measured by its consequences."

"What is it measured by?" asked Santana. Had Gordon been anyone else, she wouldn't have felt comfortable being so upfront about her lack of knowledge on the subject – on _any_ subject. But Gordon was as warm and friendly as his daughter.

"It's measured by someone's ability to consistently control their drinking. Many alcoholics go through periods of control, but then slip out of it again. Just like the pattern Elinor described to you."

Santana nodded, thinking.

"I was just explaining Al-Anon to Santana," Brittany piped up. "I was thinking we could tell Elinor about it, and maybe even go with her to a meeting."

"Has she ever used the word _alcoholic_ to talk about Sophie?" Gordon asked.

"No," Brittany and Santana said at the same time.

Gordon nodded in thought. "Well, going to Al-Anon would mean she'd have to admit Sophie is an alcoholic, or at the very least, someone who has a drinking problem. That label isn't one you want to give to someone you love. So if you do suggest it, it needs to be in a very gentle, loving way."

"I'll leave that to Brittany, then," said Santana, rubbing Brittany's thigh and giving Brittany a smile. "She's the master of gentle and loving. I'm more of a sledgehammer."

Gordon chuckled. "And that's why it works with you two. Well, it's been a pleasure talking to you, but I'm afraid I'm getting old and if I don't get to bed soon, I'll fall asleep on the keyboard."

"Okay. Thanks so much, dad. And would you mind sharing your recovery story with Santana some other time?"

"You mean I _haven't_ yet?" Gordon asked, eyebrows jumping up his forehead. "I thought for sure she heard it at some point."

"I didn't even know you were in recovery until half an hour ago," Santana said, shrugging. "And I would have remembered your recovery story. All your stories are memorable."

"Well I guess you learn something new every day, huh?" Gordon smiled. "Don't hesitate to call if you have more questions or just want to say hi to your old man. I'm always here."

Brittany and Santana grinned.

"Thanks Gordon! Goodnight."

"Bye daddy! Love you!"

Brittany closed her laptop.

Santana sighed. "I can't believe _Sophie_ of all people… She's just such a good person. She works hard teaching kids no one wants to teach and gets paid shit for it. How can _she_, someone who's practically a human saint, be an alcoholic?"

"Lots of good people are alcoholics, Santana," Brittany said with a frown. "Look at my dad."

"I know, but he's been sober for almost three decades…" Santana argued.

Brittany pursed her lips. "He was still a good person before he got sober. He must have been, otherwise my mom wouldn't have loved him so much."

Santana paused and was struck with an epiphany: no one could _ever_ be singularly defined by a characteristic that stood out about them. Gordon couldn't be defined by being in recovery – otherwise she would have known his history sooner. Sophie couldn't be defined by her current drinking problem. Elinor couldn't be defined by her career or her relationship. Brittany couldn't be defined as Santana's girlfriend. And Santana couldn't be defined by being a lesbian anymore than she could be defined by being a woman or a law student or a Latina. No one could be singularly defined by a characteristic that stood out about them, and yet it was her own fear that people would label her as such that had prevented her from coming out sooner. Why couldn't everyone have Brittany's ability to see the whole, rather than focusing on one figure in the sum of someone's many different parts?

"You're right, B," Santana said, her tone apologetic. "He _must_ have been a good person back then, too. There's so much more to him than being in recovery. He's your dad, he's a good husband, a retired businessman, a volunteer librarian, a golfer… I guess it's easier to just think of him as Gordon rather than trying to force all the different pieces and labels together."

Brittany gave Santana an appreciative smile. "I'm glad you see it that way, too. And it's the same with Sophie. She's a good person - _and_ she has drinking problem."

Santana nodded as she leaned onto Brittany's shoulder. She was suddenly thankful for many things she usually took for granted, not the least of which was her health and the stability of their relationship. "I'm really glad I have you, B," she mumbled.

* * *

><p>AN: If someone you know is struggling with drinking, you can find support for yourself and your loved ones at Al-Anon group meetings. Because I cannot post hyperlinks on FF without them being automatically deleted, I suggest you Google "Al-Anon" and click on the first result for more information. You're also welcome to message me about it. I love hearing from readers about anything.


	37. I'll Take Care of You

**Chapter 37: I'll Take Care of You**

Chapter title song and **soundtrack**: "I'll Take Care of You" by the Dixie Chicks

A/N 1: I am humbled by the response I got to the last chapter… it means so much to me that you shared your personal stories and reactions in your reviews and private messages.

A/N 2: Thank you to my wonderful Betas Mia and TerribleMuriel. The development in this chapter is so much smoother thanks to their brilliant minds!

* * *

><p><strong>September 2018<strong>

* * *

><p>"This is <em>delicious<em>, Elinor!" Brittany exclaimed as she chewed. She put her hand in front of her mouth to be polite, but kept talking. "Where'd you learn to cook?"

"My Nana taught me when I was little," Elinor replied cheerily as she sat down, putting her napkin in her lap.

Sophie looked across their dining room table at Elinor with pride. "She's taught herself a lot, though. She reads cookbooks like novels."

"That doesn't surprise me at _all_," said Santana, rolling her eyes with a smile as she took her first bite. "Mm!" she exclaimed as her taste buds buzzed around the food.

"It's like edible art, isn't it?" Sophie remarked.

Brittany and Santana nodded, taking another bite.

"Dinner with her is the best part of my day," Sophie smiled, giving Elinor a look of utter adoration. "Oh hey, baby, you forgot the wine!"

Santana's limbs numbed as she watched Sophie get up from her chair and walk into the kitchen. Brittany's wide eyes glanced back and forth between the kitchen door and Elinor's face. Elinor looked down at her food. Their friendly dinner had turned instantly tense.

"Babe, where'd you put all the wine?" Sophie called from the kitchen, annoyance piquing in her voice as she opened cabinet after cabinet.

Elinor poked at her food with her fork.

"Hello-ooo!" Sophie sang.

"I think we're out…" Elinor replied quietly.

Sophie sighed. "Okay, I'm gonna go get some. Be back in ten."

"No, babe, we have guests," Elinor pleaded. "We can just have Pellegrino or juice for tonight."

"Yeah, I'm fine with water," Santana spoke up. "Don't worry about it, Soph."

They heard the scrape of keys being picked up off the counter before the sound of the front door opening and closing.

Elinor set down her fork and put her forehead in her hand, elbow resting on the table. They sat in silence. Brittany swung her legs under the table, shoulders hunched up. Santana looked between Brittany and her nails.

"I hid it," Elinor admitted. "It's in the back of my closet under my shoes."

"I'm really sorry, El," Brittany murmured. "You shouldn't have to do that."

"I just don't know what to do anymore!" Elinor sputtered in exasperation, "She finds a way…"

"Maybe… maybe that's because you can't control someone else's drinking, you know?" Brittany suggested gingerly. "We have no power over other people."

"I know… I know," Elinor sighed. "I mean, I _say_ I know, but I still try. Knowing and understanding are two different things." She shrugged in surrender.

"Totally," Brittany agreed.

Santana jumped in. "We've been thinking about you a lot. We don't like seeing you so sad and stressed out."

Elinor slumped down in her chair. "Whatever. Relationships are hard."

"Yeah," Santana said hesitantly, dipping her head to the side. "But they should have more happiness than stress. The healthy ones should, at least."

"Not everyone can be like you two," Elinor mumbled.

Santana glanced at Brittany, looking for direction on how to respond.

"We have problems, too," Brittany offered. "Santana's _super_ messy and she always leaves her shoes right in front of the door where I trip over them. Sometimes when she's angry about something I have no idea what to say and I kind of freeze up. And I'm really forgetful and sometimes she gets really frustrated by that."

"Yeah, the other day she went to the store to get milk and came back with deodorant and a pound of butter…" Santana muttered, rolling her eyes.

"We don't agree on things like the value of organic food or what movie to watch or if we should splurge on a nice dinner or save for a rainy day."

"And life is just _hard_ sometimes," Santana added. "I'm always buried in reading and papers, and Brittany's work schedule is erratic. Most of the time when we actually get to see each other we're dead-tired and we just want to sleep. It's not all rainbows and kittens."

"Because Santana won't let us get a cat," Brittany muttered.

"We will, I promise." Santana turned to Brittany. "Just not right now because we need to keep our housing options open until we're a little more financially stable. Not everywhere takes cats." She turned back to Elinor. "Sorry, this isn't about us. Anyway, what really stands out to me is that… well, Sophie is doing something she knows you don't like, but she doesn't try to change it. If Britt told me she really didn't like how I always leave the bath mat on the floor after I shower, I would start putting it over the edge of the tub. At least I'd _try_, because I love her."

"But Sophie does love me!" Elinor defended. "I know she does."

"Oh, we know she does too!" Brittany assured. "She loves you _so_ much."

"She's _crazy_ about you," agreed Santana.

Brittany glanced at Santana before continuing. "We're just noticing that even though she loves you, she hasn't stopped drinking even though it bothers you."

"I don't think I have a right to tell her she can't drink," Elinor said.

"No, you're right, you don't," Santana granted. "What she does with her body is her choice. Any good feminist would agree." She gestured towards Brittany, who nodded.

Brittany picked up the thread. "We're saying that we think it's not such a good sign that she doesn't try to cool it around you, because she _knows_ it bothers you. That would be like Santana intentionally leaving the bath mat out."

Elinor stared at her food.

"Hey, El?" Santana asked, her voice suddenly soft. "Do you think… do you think maybe Sophie has a problem?"

Elinor flicked the corner of her placemat up a few times. She nodded slowly as her eyes misted over. Santana smiled sadly in sympathy, feeling her heart tug as her friend started to cry.

"We have an idea," Brittany offered. "But you can always say no."

Elinor looked up, glancing between Brittany and Santana. Her tears quivered, threatening to tumble down.

"Will you come with us to an Al-Anon meeting?" Brittany asked in her most gentle voice.

Elinor shook her head, causing the tears to spill. "I don't need A.A." She looked at the untouched food at Sophie's place.

Santana reached to touch Elinor's arm. Elinor eyed Santana's hand warily as Santana spoke. "Al-Anon is for people who are affected by someone else's drinking. People who might have tried things like hiding all the wine under their shoes."

Elinor squinted and shrugged her shoulders, as if shaking off the reminder. "I dunno. I'll think about it," she said.

"Okay. Please do," Brittany encouraged.

Elinor immediately backtracked. "I don't want to people to see me, though. People in New Haven know me and they know Sophie. I can't do that to her."

"But it's anonymous," Brittany reminded her. "Anyone else who's there probably has a similar secret, and you keep them for each other. Just think about it, okay?"

"We'll go with you any time you want," Santana added. "People know us, too, and we're willing to risk them making assumptions about us so we can support you."

"Thanks guys," Elinor smiled sadly and straightened up in her chair. "I'll think about it. But for now let's just eat."

"Okay," Santana settled.

"Have we told you how delicious your cooking is, by the way?" said Brittany with a wink.

* * *

><p><strong>November 2018<strong>

* * *

><p>Santana shut the door and laid down her heavy book bag, sighing. The house was quiet and empty. She went into the kitchen to put her travel mug in the sink and was startled to see Brittany with her back to her at the counter, chopping vegetables.<p>

"Jeezus, you scared me!" Santana sputtered, putting a hand on her heart. "I thought you worked tonight."

Brittany kept her back to Santana and nodded.

"Did they change your schedule?"

Brittany nodded again, staring intently down at the carrots and celery.

"Does that mean you'll have to work on date night again?" Santana grimaced, dumping out the dregs of her coffee and rinsing the travel mug.

Brittany kept her gaze down and shook her head, scraping carrot pieces off the knife with her finger.

"No more work," Brittany said.

"What?"

Brittany set the knife down and stared at the cabinet door in front of her. "I got laid off," she said, her voice flat.

"_What_?" Santana exclaimed, "That's impossible. You're the best PT assistant they have! They'd have to be _idiots_ to let you go. I swear, first thing tomorrow morning I'm gonna walk in there and tell those _imbeciles_—"

"Santana!" Brittany warned. "That's not helping."

Santana pressed her lips together to hold in the stream of words. She blinked. "Sorry." Her eyes darted around the room. "What would help?"

"Can we just not talk about it?" Brittany asked with a wince, picking up her knife again.

"Okay…" said Santana. She stepped cautiously toward Brittany; nothing made her feel more helpless than seeing Brittany dejected and sad.

"I'm happy you're home with me, at least." She brushed Brittany's ponytail away from the back of her neck and kissed the skin there, putting her hands on Brittany's hips. Brittany shrugged her shoulders and hunched away.

"Dinner with be ready in fifteen minutes," she said in monotone.

Santana straightened up and pulled her hands back at the rejection.

"Okay." She walked out of the kitchen, looking back as she made her way down the hall. She saw Brittany wipe her face with her wrist – was she brushing her bangs out of her eyes, or wiping away a tear?

After a hushed dinner there was an urgent knock at the door. Santana frowned from her place over the sink washing dishes, wondering who was knocking at this hour. Brittany got up from the couch to answer it.

Elinor stood on the stoop with a duffle bag. She was sniffling and trying to hide the fact that she'd been crying.

"Hey!" Brittany said with concerned enthusiasm.

"Is this a bad time?" Elinor asked in a shaky voice.

"It's never a bad time, sweetie. Come in."

"'Kay. Thanks." Elinor stepped over the threshold and set down her bag.

"Come sit down."

Elinor walked to the couch and sank into it.

"We just finished dinner. Are you hungry?" Brittany offered.

"Yes. No. I don't know," Elinor faltered.

Santana walked out of the kitchen into the living room, slinging a dishtowel over her shoulder. Upon seeing Santana's look of concern, Elinor's face scrunched and she began to cry.

"W- w-…. we broke up!" Elinor spluttered.

"Oh, honey…" Brittany cooed, taking Elinor into her arms. "I'm _so_ sorry."

Santana had never seen Elinor cry like this. She was gasping and sobbing, but Santana knew she was trying to keep as much in as she could. Santana sat on the other side of Elinor, timidly taking her hand and stroking it. She knew that feeling of heartbreak, that ripping up the middle from gut to throat. Holding Elinor's hand wouldn't make a difference, but it was all she knew how to do.

No one spoke, but Elinor's sobs and sniffles rang throughout the room. Santana looked back and forth between Brittany and Elinor, seeking guidance on what to do.

Brittany rescued her, as always. "We'll make you a bed and you can stay here for as long as you want."

"Totally," agreed Santana.

Elinor sucked air in through her nose, wiping her arm across her eyes and cheeks. "You guys don't have to do that…"

"But we want to," Santana assured. "You're one of our best friends."

Brittany nodded in agreement.

"Really?" asked Elinor, one corner of her mouth twitching up.

"Really," confirmed Santana.

Elinor paused for a moment. "Okay," she agreed, letting out a gasping sigh. "Thanks."

* * *

><p>A few weeks later, Santana and Brittany sat down at their little table for dinner. It was quiet and the air smelled of the soup Brittany has spent the last few hours making. Santana took a bite. "Mmm..." she hummed. "This recipe's a keeper, Britt. Even master chef Elinor would be humbled."<p>

"Thanks," said Brittany quietly. "Butternut squash."

Santana nodded in continued appreciation for the deliciousness before her.

Elinor had been with them for dinner for the past few weeks, so tonight's dinner without her while she was working late seemed very quiet. Santana sensed a vacancy in the beautiful girl across from her, but perhaps Brittany was just tired. Or perhaps they'd been together so long, they didn't have much to say to each other. Maybe this was supposed to happen to couples.

"The house looks good," Santana commented. It did; Brittany kept it in tip-top shape, more so now that she wasn't working. "I noticed you even fixed the light bulb over the ice dispenser. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Santana took a few more bites in silence.

Brittany stirred her soup extensively between each bite.

"I miss working," Brittany said, finally giving voice to the cloud above her. "I miss helping people."

"You're a good caretaker, Britt," Santana said, putting her hand Brittany's wrist.

"But now I don't have anyone to take care of." Brittany gave a dejected shrug, lifting her hand up against Santana's and setting it back down.

"That's not true. Elinor _really_ needs you. She's kind of a mess." It was true. Elinor's emotions had been on a roller coaster. Sometimes she was angry when something little happened like running out of toothpaste and sometimes she burst into tears in the middle of a Jersey Shore rerun.

"She's a _hot_ mess," Brittany agreed, still staring at her soup.

"So you can take care of her. She loves hanging out with you."

Brittany shrugged again. "It's not the same as a full-time job…"

"Well… you can take care of _me_," Santana offered with a cheeky smile. She knew a little humor would go a long way with Brittany. "Some people might argue _that's_ a full-time job. And I'll compensate you generously," she winked.

Brittany let out a half-hearted chuckle. "Yeah… I guess while I'm looking for work I can be your little housewife. I'll even wear an apron and heels."

"Oh my _god_, baby, that might be the sexiest thing you've ever said to me," Santana joked, setting down her spoon and rolling her eyes back into her head as she slumped down in her chair. The suggestion that Brittany would serve as a traditional, old-fashioned housewife amused both of them. They had never subscribed to gender roles and preferred it that way.

Brittany laughed. "I'll have your slippers and pipe waiting for you when you get home every night," she giggled.

"Oh, Brittany… don't stop!" Santana groaned, throwing her head back and running a hand through her hair. "You're driving me _crazy_!"

Brittany laughed louder, her head tilting back at Santana's dramatic performance. She kept going. "And I'll make you a home-cooked dinner _every_ night…"

Santana moaned, arching her back.

"… And then you can sit in front of the fire and read the paper while I do the dusting."

"So close, Britt!" Santana slammed a hand down on the table, making the silverware rattle.

"I'll even iron your shirts for you."

"Yes! Oh! Brittany!" Santana yelled in a faked climax.

Brittany was laughing now, the full kind of laugh that hurts one's belly after a few moments. As her laughter died down, she sighed. "You're funny, S." She chuckled a few more times. "I needed that."

"Me too," Santana said with a nod, sitting up straight and picking up her spoon again. "But not nearly as much as I need _you_," she smiled.

Brittany smiled back, sitting up straighter in her chair. She took a bite of soup and swirled it in her mouth for a moment before swallowing. She took several more bites, slumping down just a bit with each one. Santana finished her soup and got up to put her dishes in the sink.

"Santana?" Brittany asked, seeming timid.

"I'm the only one here," Santana called over the sound of the faucet as she rinsed her bowl.

There was a pause until Santana shut off the tap.

"Have you been faking it recently?"

Santana dropped her bowl in the sink with a loud clink. "_What_?" She took several quick strides back to the table where Brittany sat. "Britt, that's _absurd_. After seven years I think you'd know if I was faking it."

"Okay… just checking." Brittany took a bite of soup.

Santana walked back into the kitchen, shaking her head at Brittany's question. After a moment she called back, "I've _never _faked it with you."

* * *

><p><strong>A week later<strong>

* * *

><p>"Morning baby!" Santana called, seeing Brittany in the kitchen.<p>

"Hey honey," replied Brittany, turning around as she placed the lid on Santana's breakfast; a Tupperware filled with a bagel and some cut fruit, paired with a travel mug of coffee. She handed the containers to Santana.

"Thanks," Santana said as she accepted them. "What are you up to today?"

"I'm apartment hunting with Elinor," Brittany said, gesturing to the two plates of food on the counter.

"That's great. She could use your support."

"Hey, I know you wanted to spend time together, just you and me this weekend… but is there any way you could help us move her out of Sophie's if we find a place by then?"

"Oh, gosh… you know, I have _so_ much work to do, I could really use the weekend to catch up. I'm sorry… But Elinor definitely needs your help, and I'm glad you have someone to spend time with."

"Okay," Brittany shrugged. "Well, we'll miss you and your strong lifting arms."

* * *

><p>"<em>Mellita, domi adsum<em>," Brittany called as she walked in the door, letting in a flurry of January snowflakes. _Honey, I'm home._

Santana looked up from her work and grinned at the Latin greeting. She got up and went to meet Brittany at the door with a kiss. "Hey, sexy…" she purred, making bedroom eyes. "We _finally_ have our house back to ourselves."

"Yay," replied Brittany. Her enthusiasm didn't quite match her word choice, but Santana brushed it aside.

"I thought Elinor would _never_ leave… Want to get in bed and watch a movie?" asked Santana. Her tone was rife with implication as she slid her arms around Brittany's waist and down over her backside, drawing their hips together.

"Why bother with the movie?" Brittany shrugged.

Santana grinned and kissed the side of Brittany's neck, licking right below Brittany's jaw. "I like the way you think," she purred.

She led Brittany into the bedroom by a loose handclasp, turning to smile at her once as they walked down the hall. When they reached the foot of the bed, Santana pulled Brittany into her by her belt loops and then cupped her face as she kissed her. Brittany responded to her lips and her tongue, but made no advances of her own.

Santana slipped off Brittany's jeans and top without any objection, then removed her own. She unceremoniously stripped her underwear, then Brittany's, before pressing her back onto the bed. Santana crawled on top, kissing Brittany's neck as if parched and Brittany was a newfound spring in a familiar clearing.

"Mmm… it's been awhile," Santana murmured into Brittany's collarbone. Her lips never left Brittany's skin, causing her words to slur a little.

Santana's kisses quickened as she pressed into the crook of Brittany's neck. This felt like her high school days; she was desperately seeking any and all contact in reckless abandonment, possible consequences forgotten. Brittany felt the feverishness with which Santana's skin felt feverish and her mouth roamed Brittany with urgency as her hands fumbled and grabbed at Brittany's curves. Brittany pulled Santana's hips down, smiling as juicy heat met thigh. Santana moaned at the contact and closed her eyes for a moment before grinding onto Brittany with adolescent need. Santana was glad Brittany wasn't playing her usual 'topping' game as she clutched at Brittany and gyrated on top of her – she wanted to be in charge tonight, and she didn't have the patience to battle Brittany for permission. She was just as passionate in bed as she had ever been.

"Someone's on fire tonight," Brittany grinned sweetly.

"_Always_ for you…" Santana gasped.

Santana started to pant heavily, her eyes closing as she let herself be engulfed in her desire. She took her hand off of Brittany's breast to reach down and rub her own clit, sitting up a little so Brittany could watch. Soon her panting turned to moaning and Brittany smiled. Though Brittany was usually in charge of Santana's release, she loved seeing Santana get herself off, too.

"Feeling good, baby?" Brittany asked, lying still beneath her.

"Uh huh…" Santana moaned. "God, you make me so wet…"

"I feel you all over my leg." Brittany's voice was sweet and light, in stark contrast to the rough, deep tones of Santana's. It almost sounded like Brittany was singing. "Come for me. I know you want to."

Santana pursed her lips and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before pulling her hand away and sitting up straighter. "Mmm… I _do_ want to. So bad. But you first," she said as she scrambled down, burrowing between Brittany's legs. "Getting you off first makes mine even better."

"It's okay, baby, go ahead…" Brittany protested, reaching to pull Santana back up. But Santana had moved quickly, and all Brittany could reach was her hair.

Santana slid her tongue out to sample Brittany's sex. As she fed off the sweetness that pooled there, she always lost her grounding in time. Brittany's knees jerked up a few inches as Santana began consuming her.

Santana lapped at Brittany diligently. She loved eating Brittany out – really _loved_ it. She loved the taste. She loved the texture and the heat and the way the wetness coated her chin and cheeks and the tip of her nose. She loved that it was messy. She loved the sounds her mouth made as she licked and lapped and kissed and sucked Brittany's juices. Most of all, she loved the noises Brittany made and the way she would thrash her head about on the pillow as she pressed Santana's head deeper.

But Santana's tongue was starting to ache and Brittany wasn't thrashing yet. Nevertheless, Santana pressed on. She tried humming, hoping the vibrations would stir up Brittany's desire. She tried writing words with her tongue; first beautiful words like _love_ and _cherish_ and _forever_, and when those didn't work, she tried dirty words like _pussy_ and _fuck_ and _come_. She tried making her tongue softer, then tried making it pointier. She tried sucking harder. She tried nibbling and gently biting. Nothing was getting any reaction.

Santana slurped as she pulled her mouth away. "You want something else?" she asked, panting.

"No, feels good baby…" Brittany murmured, sounding half-asleep.

Santana looked up and saw Brittany had her arm over her eyes. "You sure?" she asked.

"Uh huh," Brittany replied, nodding from under her arm.

Santana returned to dutifully licking and sucking. After a while, Brittany still hadn't progressed, so Santana slipped two fingers inside and focused her mouth solely on Brittany's clit. Brittany let out an unconvincing grunt.

Santana pumped her hand in and out in the same way she had done for ages; it wasn't an even piston, but rather an elongated circular motion that slowed and pressed up into Brittany. Meanwhile, her tongue traced the familiar pattern against Brittany's clit, alternating between long, slow licks up and down and quick, rougher zigzags back and forth. Santana made even, slow pulses of pressure with her lips. This had been the right combination for years, but Brittany wasn't panting or clutching her breasts or pressing Santana's head deeper. Brittany wasn't doing much of anything.

Santana decided to try a different approach.

"Mmm… baby you taste so fucking good," she mumbled into Brittany. She kept licking and sucking, her tongue's movements matching the zeal of her words. "Feeling you all over my face makes me so hot…" She lapped and sucked some more. Getting little reaction, she switched the placement of her hand and tongue, drawing circles on Brittany' clit with her fingers while her tongue alternated between darting in and out and languid strokes up and down the length of Brittany's center. Santana felt Brittany's hips rise up slightly to meet her mouth. That was a good sign.

"I'm gonna keep fucking you with my tongue until you come all over my face…" She made a broad stroke with her tongue upwards, curling it as it met her fingers. "Then I'll clean you with my mouth… I'll drink up all your come and ask for more."

Brittany quivered a little bit.

Santana returned her head lower to keep fucking Brittany with her tongue, her fervor renewed now that she had felt some sort of response. She made the movements of her mouth louder, slurping and smacking as much as she could, knowing it would turn Brittany on. Brittany tilted her hips up for a moment before they returned to settle on the sheets.

Santana was discouraged. If she could just get Brittany to the same crazed state she was in, it would be electric between then. She made one final attempt. "I'll be so thankful for your come I'll let you do _anything_ you want to me..."

She thought for _sure_ that would do it for Brittany; Brittany loved feeling she had complete reign over Santana's willing body. But the only reaction Santana got was a forced moan. Santana decided to stop talking; she felt too vulnerable speaking those phrases when she got such a lackluster response.

Santana continued the combination with her hands and tongue. After a few minutes, she heard Brittany begin to make noises, but they were odd and strained.

"Yes…. Right there…" Brittany whined. Santana was confused – she hadn't moved her fingers or tongue to a new place.

Brittany lifted her hips up a bit before moaning.

"Oh! Haaa… UGH!" Brittany shouted, lifting her back up off the bed too gracefully before floating back down. She sighed. Her breathing was immediately too steady.

Santana stilled her fingers and tongue, her eyes flying open in shock.

"That was good baby…" Brittany mumbled, arm still over her eyes.

Brittany was a _terrible_ actress.

Santana's desire ran cold before churning into anger. She wiped her face with the corner of the sheet, flinging it away as she sat up. Gritting her teeth, she crawled to her side of the bed and flopped down, crossing her arms over her breasts. She faced the wall, burning as she tried to take slow, deep breaths into her belly. The more she replayed Brittany's performance, the tighter her jaw got and the more the silence in the room pressed into her ears. Finally she had to release.

"Don't _ever_ fake it with me, Britt."

Santana felt some relief, but when Brittany didn't respond after several moments, the tension only escalated. Why didn't Brittany _say_ anything? It was so unlike her. The weight of the silence pressed on Santana like a lead blanket. Brittany only broke the silence with the soft slipping sound of the sheets as she rolled to face the opposite wall, pulling the covers around her.

Santana fumed in silence. She wondered if it would be too harsh to go sleep on the couch. On one hand, she certainly couldn't fall asleep like this. On the other hand, she didn't want to make a bad situation worse. Perhaps she was only weighing the pros and cons because she was too rigid with resentment to move. No sooner had she decided to stay put when she heard Brittany's breathing shift, indicating she was asleep. Santana squeezed her eyes together, as if doing so would help her fall asleep. It didn't.

Things weren't much better the next morning. Santana awoke bitter, hungover from the previous night's anger. She showered quickly and got ready for class in silence, keeping her eyes down when she saw in the bathroom mirror that Brittany was awake in the bedroom behind her. She closed the bathroom door to put on her makeup and dry her hair.

When she walked down the hall to the kitchen on her way out, Brittany had placed a travel mug of coffee and a Tupperware of food next to her briefcase as usual; a bagel with cream cheese, a few strawberries, and two pieces of bacon. Santana had already darted out the door before Brittany could turn around and speak.

Santana came home that night to find a bowl of floating gardenias waiting for her on the table. Next to the bowl was a card Brittany had hand-made. On the front was a mosaic heart made of tiny pieces of multicolor tissue paper. Santana felt she was able to fully exhale for the first time that day as she opened the card and read the note inside.

_My Dearest S,_

_I'm so sorry about last night. You had every right to be angry with me. I can only imagine how awful I would feel if you had done that to me. I should have communicated with you better. Please accept my apology - I promise it won't happen again._

_You'll always be the sexiest woman I know._

_I love you,_

_Britt-Britt_

_P.S. I can't wait to see you when I get home from helping Elinor finish moving. Your dinner is in the fridge – heat on high for a minute and a half_:)

Santana pressed the card to her chest, feeling it settle from a day of boiling. She bent to smell the gardenias. As she inhaled, memories of their senior prom rose to the surface of her consciousness. She marveled at how instantly her mind produced a picture of Brittany in that pale pink dress, walking with her head held high into the dance holding her hand. With that image, she remembered exactly how wonderful the past seven years had been. She sighed as she stood upright and went into the kitchen to retrieve her dinner.

As she ate, she realized how exhausted she was – being angry took a lot out of her! Setting a timer on her phone, she vowed to work on an assignment for one hour. When the phone buzzed, she put on her pajamas, got in bed, and give in to her body's demand for sleep.

She awoke to the sound of the front door closing. She smiled; Brittany was home. Moments later she heard Brittany slip into the bedroom, tiptoeing into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. Santana rolled over, eyes squinting at the panel of light under the bathroom door. She could see the shadows made by Brittany's feet as they waltzed back and forth to her nighttime routine; flossing, brushing her teeth, then her hair, and washing her face. It was the only nighttime routine Santana could remember ever watching. Brittany turned off the light before opening the bathroom door so she wouldn't disturb Santana.

"Hey baby," Santana mumbled. She yawned and twisted her head so she could make out Brittany's figure in the dark.

"Hey honey." Santana could hear the smile in Brittany's whisper as she walked to the other side of the bed. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay. I wanted to see you," Santana murmured, reaching her hand into the dark for Brittany's. Brittany pulled off her shirt before crawling onto the bed the kiss Santana in response. Their lips slipped between one another and smiled at the same time; they were okay again. Brittany kissed Santana one more time for good measure before crawling back off the bed.

"How was the move?" Santana asked.

"Exhausting," Brittany sighed, setting her watch on the bedside table. "Elinor has _so_ much stuff. Mostly shoes, I think."

"How is she?"

"She's having a hard time," Brittany answered as she put on a t-shirt and changed into some sweats. "Sophie isn't making this easy on her… she showed up while we were packing up the last car load with flowers and jewelry and a speech prepared. That and a truckload of promises she's made before." Brittany lifted the covers and climbed in the bed, letting a draft run up Santana's side. "But Elinor will be okay. She's strong."

"Mm hm." Santana nodded into the pillow as she pulled the covers up around her. Brittany scooted in on her side. Her hips always made the perfect nook for Santana to slide into. Santana hummed as she shimmied back, the warmth of Brittany's body making up for the draft she had just let in.

"I'm so grateful we're both healthy and happy," Brittany said earnestly into Santana's hair.

"Mmm… me too," Santana hummed.

Brittany lifted her head to kiss the back of Santana's neck, which was moist with sleep-sweat. "Have I ever told you how lucky I am to have you?" she whispered.

"Yeah," Santana smiled into the dark. "Once or twice."

Brittany's arm wrapped around Santana's waist as she set her head back down on the pillow. "So, so lucky …" she murmured.


	38. One Flight Down

**Chapter 38: One Flight Down**

Chapter title song and **soundtrack**: "One Flight Down" by Norah Jones

A/N: Thank you to my wonderful Betas, Mia and TerribleMuriel.

* * *

><p><strong>Time: Late January 2019<strong>

* * *

><p>"Hi, my name is Brittany Pierce. I was calling to follow up on a résumé I submitted last week. Did you happen to – oh. Okay. Well, thank you. Have a nice day."<p>

Santana heard Brittany sigh and set down her phone in the other room. She watched as Brittany walked through the living room to the kitchen to get a glass and fill it with ice and water.

"No luck?" Santana asked as Brittany dragged her feet back through the living room.

Brittany shook her head and looked into her glass as she took a sip.

"Don't worry, B. You'll find something soon. I'm shocked someone hasn't snatched you up already."

Brittany gave Santana a lackluster smile as she walked toward the sofa. "There aren't that many places in New Haven that need PT assistants."

"What about a different kind of job?" Santana suggested, trying to stay upbeat. "You're good at lots of things."

Brittany set her water on the coffee table and sat down, resting her head on Santana's shoulder. "I've been applying… but not many places are hiring people with no experience and a self-designed major in Kinesiology and Women's Studies."

Santana supposed that was true. She tilted her head sideways onto Brittany's. It felt good to be close to her.

Brittany continued grumbling: "I've even applied to restaurants and stuff, just to have a _little_ income. But I don't have any experience there, either."

Santana ran her hand over Brittany's hair, cupping her cheek, "Don't worry too much, Britt. It's early enough in the semester I can take out more loans if we need to. Plus I'll graduate in a few months and hopefully I'll have something lined up by then."

Brittany sighed, nodding. She fidgeted with her hands in her lap. "I just feel so _sad_…"

Santana put her hand on Brittany's thigh. "Don't be sad, Britt-Britt. We'll be fine. It's just a bump in the road."

* * *

><p><strong>Time: Early February 2019<strong>

* * *

><p>"Hey baby?" Brittany poked her head into the bedroom where Santana was writing a paper. "I was thinking about going to see that new exhibit at the University Art Gallery for date night tomorrow. They have a special reception this weekend with food and wine. It's free for students. Or we could do something less fancy, like sneaking burgers and a few beers into a movie."<p>

"Both of those sound fun, Britt, but I can't do date night this week..." Santana said with an apologetic grimace. "I have a group meeting I know will go really long that night. I totally forgot. I'm sorry! I'll make it up to you next weekend."

"Oh… okay. That's fine." Brittany looked down and flicked a stray paperclip a few inches across the carpet with her foot.

It wasn't as if they had never cancelled date night over the past seven and a half years. In fact, in recent years it had usually been at Brittany's request, due to her work schedule. Back when they were in college, their various clubs kept them so busy they often had to improvise. Given the strain on their wallets, they had sometimes opted for a late dessert in the dining hall as a 'date.' They always got dressed up and made it fun, even if it was the same venue they went to in pajamas for breakfast the next morning. But now there was no dining hall, at least not within walking distance, and their date nights had become fewer and far between.

But Santana saw Brittany's disappointment in the way her shoulders wilted. She knew Brittany was more sensitive to rejection at the moment; without work or any scheduled activities to keep her busy, Brittany looked forward to date night all week.

"You should still go to the art exhibit, though," Santana encouraged. "Take Elinor and use my student ID. She could totally pass for me and she needs stuff to take her mind off Sophie."

Brittany shrugged, still flicking the paperclip with her toes. "I don't wanna go with Elinor," she mumbled. "I wanna go with _you_."

Santana cringed with guilt. She was conscious that the burden of staying positive had fallen on her recently. "Hey, in a few weeks I have Spring Break – how about I take you out dancing?" she suggested. "We can get all dressed up and pretend we just met and I'm trying to impress you by opening doors and buying all your drinks and stuff."

Brittany's face livened a bit. "I'd love that," she smiled, "we haven't gone dancing in a while."

"Okay. It's a date then!" Santana grinned. "And I'm sorry about this week."

"Eh, it's okay," Brittany sighed. "I think the refrigerator coils need dusting anyway…"

* * *

><p>Santana concentrated on keeping her eyes open in class. They were itchy and dry, not from allergies, but from lack of sleep. All the other people in her group project had been slacking, and she had stayed up until five in the morning making up for their sorry contributions to the presentation. She had been running on five hours of sleep a night all semester. She was doing the best she could, but today 'the best she could' was attempting to remain conscious and appear to be listening.<p>

"All right, class, that's all for tonight. I'm going to let you go a little early since I'm sure you all have plans. Before you go, come pick up your Immigration Law papers from Amy."

The classroom rustled with the sounds of her classmates packing up. Santana shook herself awake, put away her laptop, and slung her bag over her shoulder. She walked down the lecture hall steps and waited in the small swarm of students to pick up her graded assignment.

"Hey, Santana!" Amy greeted. "Hanging in there?"

"Barely," Santana grumbled.

"Well, let me know if you want extra help, okay? That's what T.A.s are for. We can find another time if my office hours don't work for you," Amy winked, handing Santana her paper.

"I'll come by office hours if I have questions, thanks," Santana said curtly. She was irritated that Amy was flirting with her; everyone knew Santana was spoken for.

She walked back up the lecture hall steps to the door and flipped open her paper.

In the top right hand corner was a big, red "C-."

A '_C-'_ on her Immigration Law paper? There was _no_ way. Her _grandparents_ were immigrants. This wasn't happening.

She stuffed the paper into her bag, not caring when she heard it crinkle. Storming out of the building, she marched to her car, jammed her keys in the ignition, and sat for a moment before letting out a low, grumbling scream. She gripped the steering wheel and brought her forehead down onto it with force. She just couldn't _take_ it anymore. Something had to change. As the shock from the impact with the steering wheel faded from pain to ache, she felt her exhaustion overtake her anger. She took three slow, deep breaths.

"You can rewrite the paper next weekend," she chanted to herself a few times. "_Cálmate, cálmate_…"

She sat up and tilted her head back onto the seat. It was quiet here. No one wanted anything from her. The car was the most serene place in her life. She started the ignition and turned the radio off when it blared on. She drove home, relishing the brief internal quiet.

As she opened the door to her apartment, the smell of charred food hit her square between the eyes. Her day came flooding back to her: the presentation, the exhaustion, the unwanted flirtation, the paper. She coughed and grit her teeth, dropping her bags and kicking off her shoes with more force than usual. She walked into the kitchen, hands on her hips.

"You burned _another_ one?" she fumed when she saw the mess on the stove, "Babe, you _can't_ keep buying those organic, free-range steaks that are _three times_ more expensive than normal ones if you're gonna burn them. I know you don't like your meat to suffer, but that's twenty dollars out the window! We're on a _budget_ here."

"I… I just wanted us to have a nice dinner…" Brittany said in a small voice.

"Well _me too_, Britt, but we can't always _get_ what we want!"

The corner of Brittany's mouth twitched. Her hair fell like a curtain between them as she leaned over to scrape the burnt contents of the skillet into the trash and sang quietly, "_But if you try sometimes… you just might find… you get what you need_…"

"Not _now_, B," Santana spat, storming out of the kitchen towards the bedroom. She plopped down at her desk, staring at the books and papers spread before her. She sighed as she picked up her pencil and resumed the work she had left in a rush to get to class. She was so tired that after a few minutes the shapes and figures on the pages started to swim together. It was only six weeks into the semester and she already felt like her stress was at the same level it usually was during exams. She just had to get through this final semester and then she might have a few months to relax. But who was she kidding? By then she'd be studying for the Bar and _hopefully_ working.

Santana heard the clink of dishes behind her as Brittany walked into the room.

"Hey," Santana said without looking up. "Sorry I snapped at you," she brusqued, turning the page of her book.

"I'm sorry you're so stressed out," Brittany said meekly. "I brought you dinner."

"Thanks," Santana muttered, making a note in the margin.

Brittany set the plate down on the corner of the desk. Santana huffed, lifting the plate and removing the papers from under it, then setting it down again. Brittany stood next to Santana for a moment, hands pressed against the apron she wore. When Santana didn't look up, she turned to go.

When she got to the door, Brittany looked back and murmured, "Happy Valentines' Day…"

Brittany left the room before Santana could turn around. Seeing the empty doorway, Santana felt guilt rush down her like a bucket of water had been dumped over her head. She looked at the plate Brittany had brought her: it was her favorite comfort food, grilled cheese and tomato soup. Brittany had drawn a heart in ketchup on top of the sandwich. Santana's shoulders slumped until she felt so heavy she put her head down on the desk, drawing her arms around it to block out the light and sound. _How_ could she have forgotten?

* * *

><p>"Oh, baaay-by!" Santana sang, coming through the door three weeks later. "It's date night!"<p>

Santana had grabbed her outfit for the evening on the way out the door that morning and changed into it in the bathroom on campus before she left. In addition to wearing Brittany's favorite outfit - her short, red dress - she had picked up a bouquet of roses on her way home. She had really been making an effort after the Valentine's Day debacle.

Brittany was lying on the couch in her sweats.

"Hey, you're not dressed!" said Santana. "I thought you'd be all excited and ready to go. I promised I'd take you dancing, remember?"

"Oh yeah…" Brittany responded, wrinkling her nose.

"Don't you want to go?" Santana asked, surprised.

"Uh… yeah, I guess. I don't know though, I'm kinda tired. Maybe we could have date night here? Watch a movie or something?"

"Sounds good to me…" responded Santana with a coy smile. "I got these for you," she said, holding out the flowers to Brittany.

"Thanks…" Brittany said, giving a tired smile. "They're pretty." She didn't get up to take them.

"I'll put them in water..." Santana went into the kitchen, searching for a vase. She didn't find one, so she used a recycled tomato sauce jar. Setting them on the table, she asked, "So what movie do you want to watch?"

"You pick," Brittany shrugged.

"Okay… how about _Imagine Me and You_?" It was sweet and romantic; just the thing they needed.

"Not enough action..." Brittany whined.

Santana giggled. "Britt, if you want to watch porn you can just say so."

"No, I mean _boom crash_ action."

"Okay, _D.E.B.S._maybe?" suggested Santana. It had a little more action, but there was still a lesbian storyline. It could be a great date movie to cuddle up with, and certainly gave her an opportunity to put a few much-needed moves on Brittany.

"There's an Angelina Jolie movie on the DVR… we could watch that."

"Sounds good to me," Santana smirked. "You know I love me some Angelina. What's it called?"

"_Taking Lives_."

It sounded a little morbid, but Santana was more than willing to let Brittany call the shots. "I'll make popcorn and we can snuggle."

An hour later, Santana was lying in bed staring at the TV in terror. This had to be the most disturbing movie she had ever seen. Even Angelina wasn't enough to compensate for watching a man sever the hands of innocent people and take photographs of their bodies to look at while he had sex with unsuspecting women. In a horrified trance, Santana reached into the popcorn bowl that sat between her and Brittany over and over as the movie became increasingly gruesome.

Santana turned to look at Brittany. She didn't seem to be watching, but rather staring through the screen. She didn't blink at all the blood or the idea that someone could be so deviously psychopathic. She thought for sure Brittany would at least be hugging a pillow or squeezing her eyes shut. But Brittany lay still. If her eyes hadn't been open, Santana would have thought she was asleep.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you from psychos like that, Britt-Britt," Santana said, reaching for Brittany's hand on the other side of the popcorn bowl.

Brittany's lips twitched in a fading smile as she continued staring. Santana moved the bowl of popcorn onto the floor and rolled onto her side, snuggling up against Brittany. Santana drew her leg over Brittany, resting it across her hips as she snuggled closer. She was surprised at how stiff and frail Brittany felt under her; her hipbone jutted out too sharply into Santana's thigh.

"B, have you lost weight?" Santana asked, running her hand across Brittany's stomach. It was leaner, too. "You feel really… different."

"I dunno," Brittany shrugged, eyes still on the screen. "I guess. That would explain why my clothes feel a little loose…"

"I guess I need to make you more grilled cheeses… I like a little something to grab onto, ya know…" Santana murmured into Brittany's ear, nuzzling it as she drew her hand up to cup Brittany's breast.

"Baby, we're watching a movie," Brittany whined.

Santana drew her hand down over Brittany's stomach again, letting her fingertips linger at the waistband of Brittany's sweats. "Mmm... that was never an issue before…" she purred. She tucked her nose into Brittany's neck, kissing the sweet spot that usually made Brittany shiver. Brittany flinched away.

"Santana, stop."

Santana drew her head back and looked at Brittany. Brittany kept her eyes on the screen as different shades of grey illuminated her face. Santana sighed and rolled back onto her side of the bed, crossing her arms.

Brittany sighed, turning her attention to Santana. "I'm sorry. I promised I would communicate better with you about this… I guess I'm just not in the mood right now," she apologized.

"You're _never_ in the mood lately," Santana muttered, staring at the ceiling. "It's been at _least_ two months."

Brittany pursed her lips, considering Santana's remarks for a moment.

"I'm sorry, baby…" Brittany murmured, rolling onto her side toward Santana. "I didn't realize it'd been so long. I don't mean to turn you down all the time…"

Santana softened and uncrossed her arms. "I guess I'm just disappointed because I thought when you said you wanted to 'watch a movie' you meant something other than watch a movie."

"Oh," Brittany responded. "I'm sorry." She scooted an inch closer and ran her hand across Santana's stomach. She wrapped her long fingers around Santana's side, using the grasp to pull herself flush against Santana. She nuzzled into Santana's neck, and placed a kiss below Santana's ear. "I love you," she whispered, smoothing her hand over Santana's stomach and down toward the waistband of Santana's pajamas.

Santana felt her stomach twist. This wasn't what she wanted. "Baby, it's okay. I don't want you to do it because you feel obligated."

"But I feel bad…" replied Brittany.

"It's okay," Santana shrugged against the pillow.

Keeping the rest of her body still, Brittany moved her hand lower into Santana's pants. Santana grasped Brittany's wrist, removing the hand from her pajamas and draping Brittany's arm across her stomach.

"You know what we haven't done in a while?" Santana asked, turning to look at Brittany and trying to sound cheerful.

"Hm?" asked Brittany.

"Just cuddle and feel close to each other. You can be the little spoon and I'll hold you while we watch Angelina kick this guy's ass."

"Okay," Brittany smiled, nuzzling into Santana.

Santana turned toward Brittany onto her side, rolling Brittany over and tucking her into the nook of her hips.

"I love you too," Santana whispered, lifting her head to kiss Brittany on the cheek. She set her head back on the pillow and they watched the movie in silence.

A few minutes later, Santana felt Brittany's chest rising and falling. She was disappointed; even though she was tired too, she had hoped they could stay up and talk. She wanted to talk about school and their summer plans and maybe come up with something fun for their next date night. But she let Brittany sleep; she looked too sad and peaceful to wake. Santana reached for the remote, being careful not to wake Brittany. She turned off the TV, not bothering to pause the movie. She pressed her nose into Brittany's hair, and as she breathed in, she felt as if she inhaled some of Brittany's heaviness. How could she feel so alone while she held such a beautiful girl in her arms?

* * *

><p>"B!" Santana cried, bursting through the front door a week later. "B, guess what!" she yelled. She dropped her bags in the middle of the hall and looked in the kitchen. Finding it empty, she ran down the hall to the bedroom. She saw Brittany lying in bed and halted in the doorway.<p>

"What?" Brittany mumbled, startled by Santana's exuberant entrance. Her voice was breathy as she lifted her head off Santana's pillow to look at the doorway.

"Sorry, were you sleeping?" asked Santana, stifling her energy so it could fit into the dim bedroom.

"Not really, just resting," Brittany answered, laying her head back down.

"It's cute that you sleep on my side of the bed when I'm not here," Santana grinned.

Brittany smiled in response. "What are you so excited about?"

Santana took a moment to let herself expand again, grinning as she announced, "I got a job offer!"

"Aw, congrats, baby," Brittany murmured, a peaceful smile spreading across her face. "With who?"

"Kelley and Fischer," Santana replied. "I guess they liked me after all!" she mused with a smug grin.

"Of course they did," Brittany yawned. "What's not to like?" She smiled, reaching for Santana's hand.

Santana walked further into the bedroom, taking Brittany's hand and leaning down to kiss her forehead. It was a little clammy, but Santana figured she had just been sleeping. "I'm going to call Sasha and tell her, and then I'm going to call Elinor and thank her for the strings she'll deny she pulled for me."

"Okay," said Brittany, "Say hi to them for me."

"Do you want to go out to dinner to celebrate in a bit? We can make it an early birthday dinner for you, too."

"I'm not really hungry…" Brittany answered.

Santana swung Brittany's hand back and forth a little between them, watching Brittany's arm follow limply as she did. She squeezed her hand. "You feeling okay, baby?"

"Just tired," Brittany sighed. "I'm happy for you, though." She smiled again, though half of it was lost in the pillow.

* * *

><p>Santana tilted her head to look at the painting, frowning. She liked the colors, but she found Impressionism too blurry. Looking at this painting felt like being a little drunk. At least the gallery had chosen an exhibit that showcased a variety of styles and mediums, so she wouldn't have to look at blotches all afternoon. She was also thankful this wasn't the reception Brittany had originally suggested, as the free wine would have further complicated her experience.<p>

Brittany stood beside her, studying the same portrait with a soft smile. "It's pretty," she murmured.

"I guess," Santana frowned. "But it's blurry and she doesn't look happy."

"It's still pretty," Brittany shrugged.

Santana turned to look at the opposite wall. There she found a giant collage of candid photographs from World War Two framing an image of Rosie the Riveter. She smiled. Clear images of women sewing, rolling bandages, working in factories, and driving supply vans were much more accessible to her.

"Hey look, it's Rosie the Riveter," she said to Brittany.

Brittany turned to look at the collage. She stood next to Santana, taking in the snapshots of women working, many of them for the first time in their lives. Brittany crossed her arms across her chest. To Santana, it was empowering to think about women rising to meet the challenges of the time. She knew women wouldn't have as much freedom today to choose the career of their liking if it hadn't been for World War Two - that's when it became okay in the U.S. for women to have jobs outside the home aside from cleaning, typing and teaching. As she looked at the pictures, she felt reverence and awe for the women in the photographs.

Brittany looked at Santana, seeing a faint smile as her eyes grazed across the wall of images.

"How come _you_ get all the luck?" Brittany muttered.

"What do you mean?" asked Santana, frowning as she tilted her head back to look upward at more photographs.

"Yale, your job, all your awesome new friends…"

"Awesome new friends?" Santana asked, eyes floating to a new image. "I have classmates I study with, but I don't know if I'd call them _friends_. I don't have enough time for friends."

"But still… your job offer and stuff. You have _all_ the luck."

"It's not luck, Britt, I work _hard_." Santana shrugged, still examining the collage.

Brittany's lip quivered and she turned, taking a few steps away from Santana.

Santana instantly regretted her word choice as she saw Brittany wipe her cheek.

"I work hard, too!" Brittany whimpered. "Don't you dare tell me it's all hard work!" She began to tremble.

Santana looked around her, acutely aware of the other people in the gallery. She knew how to comfort Brittany, but not when it was her own stupidity that caused the tears, and not in public. She took cautious steps towards Brittany.

"Of course, baby… of course you work hard," she murmured. She walked around so she was standing in front of Brittany. "I'm sorry... C'mere. Don't be sad! You're right, I'm just lucky…" she reached out to draw Brittany into her arms and rest her head on her shoulder. Brittany pushed her away with force.

"I don't want to be held right now," Brittany spat. "Just take me home."

* * *

><p>"Hey baby…" Santana whispered, coming into the bedroom a few days later. As if in slow motion, she set down her purse, took off her shoes and lay down beside Brittany, resting her hand on her side.<p>

"Hey." Brittany was rigid beneath Santana's hand.

"Are you feeling any better?" Santana asked. She felt she was walking on eggshells with Brittany since their afternoon at the gallery.

"I'm fine," Brittany muttered.

"You don't seem fine," Santana said, rubbing Brittany's side.

"I'm fine," Brittany repeated.

Santana was perplexed. Clearly Brittany was not fine. She exhaled, unsure what to do. Whenever Santana was stressed, Brittany made her food and gave her a massage. Maybe that would work.

"Do you want a grilled cheese or something?" suggested Santana. "Or a back rub?"

"No," uttered Brittany. "I just want to sleep."

"Shall I make you some dinner in a few hours?"

"No."

"Okay, well… have a good rest, sweetheart. I'll be in the living room if you want anything. Just call and I'll bring you food or water or… come lay down with you…"

Brittany didn't respond.

Santana found it very hard to concentrate in class the next day. What was going on with Brittany? She had always been cheerful, humming and whistling as she spun around the house, picking up Santana's mess and laughing when she burned a new recipe. But lately Brittany was always tired. She drifted around the house like a cloud about to rain.

As she drove home, Santana recalled something Brittany had said when Elinor had first hinted things weren't okay between her and Sophie:

_Relationships aren't these little sequestered things we keep separate from the rest of the world. Of course there are things you keep sacred between you… but we're around other people and sometimes we need their support_.

Santana picked up her phone and hit speed dial three; one was Brittany of course, two was Sasha, and three was Elinor.

"Hey, Slope," Elinor answered.

"Who's _Slope_?" asked Santana. "This is Santana."

"Yeah, I know. S Lopez… Slopez. Slope."

Santana snorted. "_No_, El. Never again," she insisted, stifling a laugh.

"Okay, okay, fine. What's up _Santana_?" Elinor emphasized Santana's name in mock irritation, but Santana could tell she was smiling.

Santana tried to stay casual. "Well, I was calling to talk about Brittany, but I don't know if that's weird for you… you guys spend a lot of time together…"

"It's okay. I'm friends with both of you. I haven't seen her in a while, actually. She seems busy."

"She does?" Santana frowned.

"Yeah, she only returns half my texts and emails. I figured maybe she'd found a job or something. That or you two were too busy getting it on since I left," Elinor chuckled.

Santana would have laughed, but realizing Elinor was oblivious to Brittany's changed demeanor concerned her. Clearly Brittany was distancing herself from everyone, not just Santana.

"No, she's not working. Things have been a little weird, actually."

"Uh oh. Trouble in paradise?"

"Well, I don't know if I'd say that, but lately she's always tired. She snaps at me a lot, she hardly eats, and she sleeps most of the day. I tried to take her out dancing and she chose to stay in and watch a movie. She fell asleep in the middle."

"Are you still having sex?"

Santana was taken aback. "Um…"

Luckily Elinor realized she had crossed Santana's boundary and backtracked. "Sorry, you don't have to tell me, that's personal. You probably are, lucky bitches, but even if you weren't, it happens with lesbians, so I wouldn't worry too much. But that's not what you called about…"

"Yeah… I'm just confused about why she's so angry and sleeping so much," Santana redirected.

"That doesn't sound like her. Do you think she's sick?" asked Elinor.

"I was worried about that too, but no. I asked her to go to the doctor for a check-up and she did. The doctor said everything's fine."

"That's a relief," said Elinor.

"I guess. But I kind of want to know what's going on so I can fix it, you know? How do I get her out of bed and back to normal?"

"Just tell her you're worried about her. Remind her how much you love her and want her to be happy."

"That's what I've been _doing_, but she doesn't seem to hear. I'm seriously so confused and a little irritated. Actually a _lot _irritated. I keep trying to be sweet and patient and romantic and take care of everything… but at the same time I'm trying to finish _law_ school, for fuck's sake. I can't do everything for _both_ of us. I'm so fucking tired I kind of want to just die for a few days and then come back when I can think without interrupting myself." Santana was relieved to be able to talk about her frustration. As she spoke she realized how angry she was.

"Maybe she just needs a little kick in the pants then. Of course be loving, but let her know you're frustrated and exhausted. You guys are solid enough to handle a little confrontation when something isn't working."

"Maybe," Santana said, mulling it over. But she didn't want to think about confronting Brittany. Brittany hated confrontation. "Hey, how are you, by the way? Now that I've talked your ear off about _my_ problems…"

Elinor sighed. "I'm okay. Sophie keeps bugging me... it's hard not to answer her calls, you know? But I try. I still love her… but I know she's still drinking, so I can't really let myself go there."

"Stay strong. If she calls and you feel like answering, just don't. As soon as it stops ringing you can call me and cry about it or whatever. I'd be cool with that."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

"Maybe a distraction would be good too. There's this girl who T.A.s one of my classes I think you'd like. She's really flirtatious and kind of preppy… totally your type," Santana offered.

"Aw thanks, but I'm not ready to date. I really believe you have to get over someone the hard way or you don't get over them at all. I just have to deal with this sucky part. Maybe in a few months…"

"Just let me know. Or tell Britt, she's the expert matchmaker. She's got a crazy sixth sense about people like that. But hey, I'm almost home. Thanks for listening to me complain. And sorry if it made you feel weird... I don't want you to feel like you're choosing sides with us. I probably should have called someone else…"

"No, don't worry about it, babe. You're not complaining about her, you're just worried. And now I'm worried too. She's been so sweet to me, listening to me cry about Sophie endlessly and helping me find a place… I'm glad you called. I'll try calling her more often. Now I feel like I can begin to repay you for all you did for me the past few months. You and Britt are total lifesavers."

"Anytime. Well have a good night, El."

"Good night, Santana."


	39. Samson

**Chapter 39: Samson**

Chapter title and **soundtrack** song: "Samson" by Regina Spektor.

A/N: I choose my soundtracks carefully, so I do hope you take a moment to pull the song up on YouTube and listen while you read!

I cannot thank my beta Mia enough for the countless hours she spends working with me. She has helped me grow more than I could have imagined. Please hold her harmless for the contents of this chapter.

* * *

><p>Two weeks later, Santana returned home at noon as she had promised. She had offered to come home for lunch, wanting to spend more time with Brittany and show her she cared. During their first year in New Haven, she would sometimes come home for a nooner, but she knew <em>that<em> wasn't going to happen today. Closing the front door, she was irritated to discover Brittany hadn't prepared any food for the lunch they had planned. She walked back to the bedroom and saw the familiar outline of Brittany under the sheets. This was where she always found Brittany lately: in bed, facing the wall with the lights out. Brittany didn't nap on Santana's side like she used to.

Santana was annoyed; Brittany had _all day_ to sleep and rest, and yet she continued to do so even when Santana made time for her. She remembered Elinor's advice: _Just let her know you're frustrated and exhausted. You guys are solid enough to handle a little confrontation when something isn't working._

Santana decided _yes_, it _was_ okay to let Brittany know how frustrated she was. She was making an effort, and as far as she could tell, Brittany wasn't doing anything for their relationship or herself; she wasn't doing much of anything at all.

"Why are you still in bed, Britt? Can't you just get _up_?" Santana complained as she entered the bedroom, letting her exasperation show. "I'm tired, too. I know how it feels."

There was a long silence.

"No you don't," Brittany murmured.

"For God's sake, B. You're not going to feel good if you just _lay_ there all day. You have to get up and _do_ stuff if you want things to get better. It's common sense."

Brittany was silent.

"B? Are you ignoring me?" Santana huffed.

Brittany still didn't respond. After a moment Santana saw her shoulders shaking ever so slightly under the covers. She walked around the bed and saw Brittany's face was wet with tears.

Santana's stomach dropped and she bit her lip. "Britt, what is it?" she asked.

Brittany cried in silence for another long minute as Santana's anxiety continued to rise.

Finally, Brittany gasped for air. "You've never made me feel stupid before," she whispered.

Santana was wracked with guilt. She froze, not knowing what to say or do. As soon as she could move, she knelt and leaned onto the bed, cupping Brittany's face in her hands.

"Oh, Britt… Britt, baby…" she wiped tears away with her thumbs. Brittany's eyes were distant. "You're _not_ stupid. I'm so sorry. So, so sorry." Santana put her head down on the pillow, tilting her face to look at Brittany. "I'm such an idiot. You can stay here all day if you want. Let me make it better."

Brittany sniffled. "You can't," she whispered, looking through Santana.

"Tell me what to do," Santana pleaded.

"Just go back to class," Brittany mumbled, wiping her face with the sheet.

"Can I bring you something to eat? Some soup or macaroni and cheese or something?"

Brittany shook her head. "Just go."

* * *

><p>Santana drove home that night, exhausted. The final weeks of Law school were draining her; she had been running on fumes since Spring Break. Yale didn't give law degrees to just anyone who could get in and was willing to pay tuition; you had to work your ass off to stay afloat. As if her coursework weren't enough, her constant worry about Brittany zapped whatever energy she had left. She pulled into her parking spot, hoping against hope that Brittany had made dinner. But she knew she would be eating plain pasta over the sink again. She dragged her feet up the stairs. Once inside, she leaned against the door.<p>

"I'm home, Britt…" she sighed.

There was no response. Santana trudged down the hallway into the bedroom. To her surprise, all the lights were on.

Brittany was up, her frail arms shutting a suitcase that lay on the bed. She pretended not to see Santana.

Santana froze. "Britt?" she squeaked. "Are - are you going somewhere?"

Brittany didn't answer, turning to take a coat out of the closet.

"B?"

"I'm going back to Lima," Brittany said. Her voice was flat.

"For the weekend?" Santana asked with fading hope.

Brittany shook her head. There was silence.

"Are you coming back?" asked Santana, a lump rising in her throat.

"I don't know," Brittany murmured, finally turning to look at Santana.

Santana was frozen by the dullness of Brittany's eyes.

"You're leaving?" Santana asked in disbelief.

Brittany looked down at the suitcase. The room was silent. Seconds passed.

"Are you… are we breaking _up_?" Santana choked, her chest collapsing in on itself at the words.

"I… I don't know," mumbled Brittany, eyes falling from the suitcase to the floor. Her eyes were blank. They had been blank for weeks.

"After almost eight years, Britt?" Santana asked in a broken whisper.

Brittany's gaze didn't leave the floor.

This _couldn't_ be happening. Desperation rushed with the blood through Santana's ears as she racked her brain for what had gone wrong.

"What do you need, Britt? More time together? A bigger apartment? More money? Couples counseling?" Santana was frantic.

Brittany didn't respond.

"I can help you find a job and we can get that cat you want so bad… or we can move back to Lima together, if that's what you want. I'll do anything!" Santana pleaded.

Brittany slowly shook her head.

"Just tell me how to fix it!" Santana begged.

Brittany kept staring at the floor.

Santana's desperation dropped out of her, defeated. She didn't recognize this ghost Brittany had become. "Where did you go, B?" she whispered.

Brittany didn't understand what Santana meant. "I'm going back home," she said flatly.

"_This_ is your home," Santana choked. Tears finally found their way to the surface. "Your home is with _me_," she whispered, her voice shaking.

Brittany turned away. "My taxi is waiting." She took the handle of the suitcase and pulled it off the bed with great effort. She walked past Santana into the hallway.

Santana followed, arms hanging at her side. When they neared the door, she reached out to touch Brittany's arm. Brittany flinched, pulling away as she opened the front door. "Goodbye," she murmured, not looking back. The door closed.

"Britt!" Santana gasped, releasing the only air in her lungs. She choked as her chest collapsed in on itself.

Santana heard heavy footsteps fading down the stairs. She heard a car door close and a motor switch from idling to humming. It drifted into the distance and then it was silent.

She fell to the ground. This was the same feeling she'd had when Brittany had turned her down for Artie eight years ago; it was the same feeling, but this time it was worse. A hundred times worse. A _million_ times worse. The slow rip from her stomach up through her throat felt like fire, stretching and charring her insides as she was severed lengthwise. She couldn't breathe; when she tried, it was like inhaling thick, black smoke. When her aching lungs forced her to gasp in air, she let the sobs rack her body. She screamed Brittany's name over and over into the carpet, shaking and wailing until she exhausted herself into blankness.

Head throbbing and eyes burning beneath puffy lids, she pulled herself to the couch and buried herself in the cushions. She let tears run down her cheeks and continue down her neck, tickling in contrast with the hard ache inside her throat. She drifted into a fitful, dreamless sleep.


	40. Not As We

**Chapter 40: Not As We**

Chapter title and **soundtrack** song: "Not As We" by Alanis Morissette. I prefer the album version to the single. Enjoy!

A/N: Thank you for not forming an angry, hysterical mob after the last chapter! I was touched by your reviews and messages.

For this chapter especially, I hope you will take a moment to pull up the soundtrack on YouTube.

As always, thank you to Mia.

* * *

><p><strong>Mid-April 2019<strong>

* * *

><p>Santana awoke with a start. She was on the couch, where she had been sleeping since Brittany left two weeks ago. In the bedroom down the hall the bed was made, the indent of Brittany's suitcase still pressed into the duvet. Santana's heart raced for a moment as she wondered why her alarm hadn't woken her up to go to class. Then she remembered it was Saturday. She was sick with dread; if today was anything like last weekend, she was in for an internal hurricane. Without classes and study groups to keep her busy, she was forced to face the constant reminders that Brittany was gone.<p>

Santana had gone through the motions of her life for the past two weeks: she woke up, stumbled to class, took notes, ate some ramen noodles or Chinese take-out, and did her work her work in the library, staying until she could barely keep her eyes open. Throughout the day she would call and text Brittany, hoping she would answer. At night Santana lay on the couch, weeping and aching until she fell asleep. Then she started over the next day. But now, with only a few weeks left in her final semester of law school and the pressure mounting by the minute, she realized it was time to start picking up the shards of her existence. Brittany was gone.

She reached over to the coffee table for her phone. She flipped through her contacts until she came to the number she knew she could count on.

_Hey, El_, she typed into a new text message, _are you busy today? I could really use some company…_

Santana deleted the last word and changed it to _help_ before hitting 'send.'

* * *

><p>As soon as Elinor walked in, her face fell. She could see Brittany had left. It was obvious; Santana looked weather-beaten, tissues were everywhere, books were strewn on the floor, and the trash hadn't been taken out in weeks. The air was stale and smelled of cold ramen noodles and empty Chinese food cartons.<p>

Santana was relieved Elinor didn't acknowledge Brittany's absence out loud. That would just make it too real, and she wasn't sure she could tolerate that. Instead, Elinor got right down to business.

"Okay…" Elinor began, eying the floor of the bedroom that was scattered with dirty clothes. "Do you have laundry in this apartment complex?"

"Yeah," mumbled Santana, "first floor."

Elinor bobbed her head. To Santana's surprise, the first thing Elinor did was move towards the bed. She stripped the sheets and rolled them into a ball.

"From now on you sleep in the bed," Elinor declared.

"But it smells like –"

"It won't anymore," Elinor insisted. "We'll use new detergent and fabric softener."

She dropped the sheets in a pile by the door, heading for the kitchen. She opened the fridge. "When was the last time you went grocery shopping?" she asked, eying the half-empty bottles of condiments and moldy block of cheese.

"About a year ago..."

Elinor closed the fridge and handed Santana a pad of paper. "Write down your favorite foods and we'll make a list."

Santana did as she was told while Elinor cleared a few dishes and empty Chinese food cartons from various surfaces in the apartment. Everything was disheveled; shoes were strewn up and down the hallway, books and papers toppled off the coffee table onto the carpet, and several blankets were rumpled on the floor in front of the couch.

When Santana was done making her list, Elinor examined it and wrote out ingredients for each dish.

"I used to be a good cook…" Santana mumbled.

"I know," said Elinor as she ripped the page off the pad and handed it to Santana. "Get your keys. You're going grocery shopping while I deal with… the rest of this." She flitted her hand through the air over the trashed apartment.

* * *

><p>Santana gripped the handle of the shopping cart for support. She didn't know where anything was. She closed her eyes; Brittany would know <em>exactly<em> where everything was. Santana could picture Brittany making one swift trip up each aisle, reaching gracefully up to the top shelf where the organic cereal was before bending low to grab cans of chicken broth. Santana went up and down aisles multiple times, lost and confused. She couldn't remember things like what kind of milk they always drank. She had pulled the jug out of their fridge hundreds of times, but never examined it closely – was it one percent or nonfat?

She took a deep breath. She felt _so_ foolish. Grown women weren't supposed to be overwhelmed by a trip to the grocery store. But she didn't know how to do basic things for herself anymore. She never realized Brittany had always done them. She trudged through each aisle, determined to get through the ordeal without crying.

* * *

><p>Santana carried the groceries up her steps, feet heavy. Once inside, she set the bags on the floor, their contents rustling as they settled. She leaned back against the door.<p>

"Get everything you need?" Elinor called from the bedroom.

Santana's shoulders contracted inward as she released what she had kept in at the store. She pressed her hand over her heart, as if putting pressure on it would stop it from aching. The pain in her chest pushed all the air out of her lungs, forcing her to bend forward, curling in like the tip of a fern. Tears fell silently down her cheeks onto the carpet.

When Santana didn't respond, Elinor walked into the hall with an armful of laundry. "Oh, sweetie…" she cooed when she saw Santana weeping against the door. She placed the laundry on the floor and pulled Santana into her arms, letting her cry as she stroked her hair. The tears broke their silence as Santana gasped for air. Once her lungs were full she let out a wail.

Santana rested her head on Elinor's shoulder as she shook. She couldn't remember the last time she'd cried in front of someone other than Brittany. She felt ashamed and vulnerable. Elinor seeing her weep made Brittany's absence more real. Whether real was good or bad, she didn't know, but now that Elinor was there, she didn't have to hold her grief alone. The ache in the curl of her chest was pried open as Elinor's torso pressed against hers. As Elinor held her up, she was forced to straighten and unfurl, making her ribcage feel even more hollow.

"She's really gone," Santana choked between sobs.

Elinor just stroked her hair and rubbed her back.

"Where did she _go_?" Santana demanded as she gasped for air. "She was here and then she _left_." She let the crying take over for a minute, listening as Elinor made hushing noises, as if trying to soothe an infant.

Santana pulled away, wiping her face. "Do you think there's someone else?" She sputtered and coughed, her whole body shaking at the sickening thought.

"Brittany would _never_ do that to you," Elinor declared, shaking her head. "No matter how bad things got, she has more integrity than that."

"That's what I thought too, but… now I wonder how well I knew her," Santana croaked as she continued to wipe away tears. It was comforting that Elinor was so sure Brittany hadn't betrayed her, but Santana was still beside herself. She leaned back against the door for a moment before sliding down it, crumpling onto the floor with her knees drawn to her chest.

"She was gone even before she was left," Santana explained, head tilting back against the door. "She wasn't herself anymore… it was a _ghost_ Brittany. I have no fucking idea what happened!" She began to shake again. "I feel like I'm gonna fucking _die_," she wailed, pressing her hand to her chest.

Elinor moved a stray shoe with her foot and sat down cross-legged on the floor in front of Santana. She nodded, reaching out to rub her shoulder.

When Santana had taken enough gasping breaths to begin to calm down, Elinor murmured, "It _does_ feel like you're gonna fucking die. Trust me, I know."

Santana exhaled in relief. She thought anyone who saw her cry like this would think she was unstable and hysterical. Her shoulders relaxed a bit, hand still on her chest. "Did you feel this way after Sophie?"

"_Ab_-solutely," Elinor enunciated. "Every goddamn day for _months_."

Santana was pummeled into another fit of sobbing, curling forward and dropping her head to rest on her knees. "I can't do this for months! I can't even do this for five _minutes_!" she sobbed. "It's so fucking exhausting I think my body's just gonna give up!"

Elinor moved the groceries and scooted around so she was sitting next to Santana against the door. She rubbed Santana's back. "Your body's not going to quit on you. Just take care of it. Do you need something to eat?"

Santana nodded against her knees, legs trembling. She wasn't hungry, but she felt so weak she knew she needed some fuel.

"I'll make you a some food. Come lie down on the couch and I'll bring it to you."

Elinor stood up and offered her hand to Santana. Santana wiped her eyes and nodded, taking Elinor's hand and hauling herself up off the floor. She walked into the living room and lay down, letting her muscles give out as she sank into the cushions. But even at rest, she felt she was slowly being drained and refilled with lead. She closed her eyes and listened to the sizzling of the pan in the kitchen grow louder as it heated up. Elinor put away the groceries while the food cooked.

Santana heard dishes clinking on the coffee table and opened her eyes.

Elinor smiled and tossed a napkin at Santana's chest. "Eat up, babe," she encouraged. She sat on the opposite end of the couch, facing Santana, a mug of tea between her hands and her knees drawn to her chest.

Santana sat up and looked at the plate. It was grilled cheese and tomato soup. She fought back tears, remembering how Brittany had drawn a heart in ketchup on her grilled cheese last time she made it. She took a few bites, noting that it took extra effort to swallow because her throat was so dry and hoarse.

"Thank you," she mumbled between bites.

"Any time," replied Elinor with a sad smile, blowing on her tea.

Santana set down the half-eaten crust from the first piece of her sandwich, sighing. "How the hell am I am going to study for the Bar like this?" she exhaled. "I can't even get it together to _shower_ every day."

"You don't have to take it in August," Elinor suggested. "You could postpone."

"I don't want to do that," Santana muttered, shaking her head. "I already paid the exam fee, which you know is almost a thousand dollars. I can't _afford_ to reschedule. Plus it looks bad to our bosses…"

Elinor didn't respond, just watched as Santana reached for the other half of the sandwich, dipping it in the soup.

When Santana had finished, she sighed and lay back down, head on the armrest. "Britt always makes me grilled cheese when I'm stressed."

"I had no idea," Elinor apologized. "I would have made something different if I had known."

"It's okay," Santana shrugged. "Britt says it calms me down." Santana stared at the ceiling for a moment, realizing she had spoken in the present tense. "Sometimes I think I'm just dreaming. Like, I could do one thing and wake up and she'd be back."

"Like what?"

"I don't know… nothing I haven't tried already. Call and text and email until she answers. Send flowers. Talk to her parents and make sure she's okay. But none of those have worked," Santana shrugged. "Maybe I should give up."

"Do you still love her?" Elinor asked, her eyebrows arched in challenge.

Santana scoffed. "What kind of question is that?"

"Well, _do_ you?"

Santana sat up, straightening with conviction. "She's the love of my _life_," she declared.

"So _why_ would you stop trying to get her back?" Elinor asked critically.

"Because... because she doesn't want me anymore," Santana broke, starting to cry again. A few moments passed as she tried to keep her weeping quiet.

"Did she say she was breaking up with you?" Elinor inquired, softening.

"No…" Santana sniffled. "I asked and she just said she doesn't know."

"So then you're still technically together."

Santana shrugged and looked around the room, dejected. "Who knows what she meant…"

"If you want her back as badly as I know you do, you have to keep trying. You also can't stop living just because she's not here at the moment. And you _definitely_ can't do what you did when you were seventeen; no drinking or hooking up with hot bartenders," Elinor finished with an amused grin.

Santana let out a sad chuckle as she wiped her nose on her wrist. Sometime over the past year they had moved past avoiding references to their summer together in Lima. Elinor reached for a tissue and handed it to Santana. Her voice was sweet as she murmured, "You've got to be ready for her to come back, Santana."

Santana looked at Elinor, feeling a faint flicker of hope as she wiped her cheeks with the tissue. If Elinor thought Brittany's return was a possibility, then perhaps she should too. "I guess you're right," she said, raising one shoulder in a tiny shrug.

"What would you want her to find if she came back tomorrow?"

"What do you mean?"

Elinor's tone was part infinite comfort, part tough love as she asked, "Would you want her to find you in this mess with your hair all crazy, sleeping on the couch, crying into a carton of cold chow mein?"

"No…" Santana whimpered, her voice quivering with both a laugh and a wince.

"So what do you need to do?"

Santana sat up straighter, folding her hands in her lap around the tissue. She sighed, looking around the apartment that was still a mess, despite Elinor's efforts. "I guess I need to start getting my shit together."

"How?" Elinor challenged.

"First I need a shower," Santana began.

"Excellent plan," Elinor encouraged with a grin.

"Then I'm going to go for a walk to clear my head and get my blood moving. And then I'm going to come back here and order an entire truckload of flowers to be delivered to her. Well, as many as I can afford, which is probably just a few dozen roses... but then I'm going get out my Bar prep books and study for a while before I eat lunch, which I'm going to cook for myself."

"I like your plan, Lopez," smiled Elinor. "Mind if I join you?"

Santana nodded. "I'd love that."


	41. Purgatorying

**Chapter 41: Purgatorying**

Chapter title and **soundtrack** song: "Purgatorying" by Alanis Morissette.

A/N: As always, thank you to my beta, Mia. This chapter had _many_ incarnations, and she was superb in helping me process, and patient with my constant revisions. Hold her harmless for this chapter, please.

**Time: Early May, 2019**

* * *

><p>The phone rang three times before Mrs. Pierce answered, just like always.<p>

"Hello, Santana," Vickie greeted, sympathy dripping from her words. She knew it was Santana by the caller ID and because Santana always called around six o'clock each night.

"Hi, Vick- Mrs. Pierce" Santana stammered, trying to be polite despite her usual disappointment that Brittany hadn't picked up.

"How are you, darling?" Vickie cooed.

"I'm getting by. Studying night and day. Thanks for asking." Santana had once been more comfortable talking to Vickie than to her own mother, but that had changed since Brittany had left.

"You always work _so_ hard. I hope you give yourself a break every now and then."

Santana ignored Vickie's concern. "How is she?" she pressed.

It had been three weeks. Three weeks of Brittany ignoring her calls and texts and emails and flowers and gifts. The only way Santana knew Brittany was alive was through her conversations with Vickie.

Vickie gave her usual response; "Well, she's my baby, so I won't say anything unbecoming… but she's still not her usual self."

There was silence and Santana knew, like always, this was as much information as she was going to get. But today she pressed further:

"Does she ever talk about me?"

There was a brief silence before Vickie said, "She doesn't talk much about _anything_."

Santana knew this was Vickie's way of saying _no_. She was crushed. "Has she gotten out of bed?" she asked, pushing for any information Vickie would give her.

Vickie paused again. "Santana… I really think you should ask _her_."

Santana realized that Vickie didn't know Brittany wasn't speaking to her. That was bizarre. What explanation had Brittany given for suddenly reappearing in Lima? How much did Vickie know? Was it more than Santana did?

She didn't press any further, not wanting to cut off her only connection to Brittany. She didn't know what to say if Vickie asked questions. Were they broken up? Taking a break? Floating listlessly between love and disappointment?

"Please let me know if there's anything I can do, Mrs. Pierce. I miss her _so_ much."

"Of course, dear. You take care, now."

Santana hung up. After three weeks of getting the same vague responses from Vickie, she was tired of the crushing rejection she felt when the call ended. But she couldn't give up. Not yet. Three weeks was a blip over eight years – wasn't it? Somehow it felt like a chasm.

As she was about to set her phone down, it buzzed in her hand. She felt a twinge of hope when she felt the vibration, but a split-second later she felt her heart sink when the ringtone wasn't Brittany's.

"Hello?"

She was greeted by her father's gentle voice. "Hi, Santana. How are you?"

Santana swallowed. "I'm good," she forced out. "How are you?" She was very surprised he had called. They rarely talked on the phone, preferring to send each other vague emails and occasional text messages.

"We're doing fine," he said. Santana knew her dad was nodding and smiling, sitting next to her mother as they were speaking. "We got the invitation to your graduation."

"Oh, good. Yeah, I figured you'd want one."

"We're making the drive on Friday."

Santana was stunned. "Oh – you're _coming_?"

Antonio chuckled. "Of course. Your mother has been showing the invitation to all her friends. She's very proud. You're the first Lopez to go to an Ivy, you know."

"Yeah – but wow, I _really_ didn't think you'd want to drive ten hours to watch me walk across a platform in a funny outfit…"

"Of course we're coming, sweetheart."

"Guh- great!" Santana sputtered as she felt a wave of sheer panic wash over her.

How was she going to conceal Brittany's absence from her parents for an entire _weekend_? She couldn't tell them the truth. She just _couldn't_. They had made a few inches of progress in accepting her sexual orientation, but if she even hinted that her relationship of eight years was on the rocks, they might backtrack and start setting her up with men again. She had always gone to great lengths to present a portrait of stability and happiness in _all_ areas of her life, hoping it might legitimize being gay to them. If a lesbian could be happy and successful, maybe they wouldn't think it was such a crime after all.

Santana knew what she was supposed to say next. "Did you want to stay here?" she offered, cringing at the thought of entertaining Antonio and Dolores for the weekend. But she had to show them some semblance of gratitude. They were her _parents_, after all.

"No, your mother and I don't want to intrude on you and Brittany, so I booked us a room in town. It was tough, though. Graduation weekend isn't the easiest time to get a hotel in New Haven," Antonio chuckled.

"Yeah, I bet," Santana responded, exhaling in relief.

Santana knew she had to plant the seeds of a lie now, so Brittany's absence would look less suspicious. "Actually, Brittany won't be here next weekend. She has a work thing – a conference - she just _couldn't_ get out of. We're so bummed. But yeah, it's probably best if you stay in a hotel. Our place isn't that big."

"Oh, that's a shame… I haven't seen her in a few years. Well, we're looking forward to the trip," said Antonio. "I can't believe we haven't made it out there already. I can't wait to see you."

Santana felt a dip of guilt. She loved her father, but he was so neutral in her squabbles with her mother that Santana couldn't help but think he was taking his wife's side by default. Her distance from her mother had been intentional, but she regretted that her relationship with her father had been a casualty of that decision.

"I can't wait to see you too, dad," she said sadly. "It's been a long time. You'll love New Haven. It'll remind you of your days at Northwestern."

"I'm sure it will," Antonio said. Santana could hear his smile again. "You take care now, nena."

Santana wished she could tell him how miserable she was, so he would wrap her in his arms like he used to when she was little and fell off her bike. But she couldn't. She hung up and held the phone to her lips, fighting back tears.

* * *

><p>Santana walked down the hall when she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. She opened the door before Elinor could knock.<p>

"Hey, El," Santana sighed, "Thanks for coming to help."

"No problem, chica!" Elinor chirped. She held up a bottle of sparkling juice. "I brought the bubbly!"

"What, are you on the _wagon_ now?" Santana frowned, eying Elinor's non-alcoholic offering.

Elinor gave Santana a dirty look. Santana's comment had been tactless, since she knew so much about the demise Elinor's relationship with Sophie.

"Sorry," Santana rescinded.

"I just thought 'de-gaying' your apartment was something that should be done sober. It's not really a celebration. Plus drinking with you when you're emotionally unpredictable doesn't sound like a _great_ way to spend my afternoon, so your choices are either juice or water. Unless you'd prefer I leave so you can get your booze on."

"Fair enough," Santana grumbled, "Juice it is."

"So remind me again why this is necessary?" Elinor asked after she had placed the juice in the refrigerator. "It's not like they don't know you're a big lez."

"They know. I'm not as worried about 'de-gaying' the house as I am about them figuring out Brittany's not here."

"Oooh, okay," Elinor drawled. "So you do want to hide the lesbian erotica but mostly make the place cleaner and prettier."

"Hey now!" Santana retorted, a smile creeping halfway up her lips. "_Everyone_ hides their erotica when their parents come to visit, gay or straight."

"True," Elinor admitted, rolling up her sleeves. "When are they arriving?"

"Friday night," Santana groaned. "It's going to be the weekend from hell, even if they _are_ sleeping in a hotel." Her tone grew less annoyed as she sighed, continuing. "We'll probably have a few meals here- which reminds me I need to go grocery shopping… oh god, how the_hell_ am I gonna do this?" She ran her hands through her hair.

"You'll get through," Elinor assured her, patting her shoulder in sympathy. "Where should we start?" she asked, looking around the apartment.

"I'm going to clean out the fridge and make a shopping list. Could you organize the living room?"

"You got it, Lezpez," Elinor grinned.

"No," Santana growled at the nickname. "No 'Lezpez.' It makes me sound like a gay candy dispenser."

Elinor laughed and began dusting the bookshelf, noticing that all the pictures of Santana and Brittany had been turned facedown. "What do you want me to do with your framed photos?" she called toward the kitchen.

"Turn them up," Santana called back. "Except the one of us kissing." She walked out of the kitchen into the living room, setting a partial grocery list on the coffee table. She reached for a frame that was facedown on the top shelf of the bookcase. She picked it up and examined it. Inside the solid green frame, she and Brittany had their lips pressed together, smiles turning up the corners of their mouths. The picture was from their first visit to the orchard in New Haven. Santana remembered taking it; she tasted apples on Brittany's lips as they held the pose while Brittany stretched the camera out in front of them, taking a few shots to make sure they got a good one. It was only two and a half years ago, yet it seemed like a lifetime.

"I'll uh… I'll put this in a drawer somewhere," she muttered. "Actually, it should probably go in the outside storage unit. I don't want my parents to find it by accident. It would make them uncomfortable." Santana knew that was probably true, but the real reason for removing it was so she didn't have to face it herself. She placed the photograph by the door to take out later and returned to the kitchen.

After twenty minutes, Elinor placed a small box of books and movies by the door and declared, "Okay, the living room is parent-ready."

"Perfect timing," Santana replied. "I just finished cleaning the kitchen."

"Bedroom and bathroom next?"

Santana nodded and they walked down the hall. Elinor went into the bathroom, rummaging under the sink for cleaning supplies.

Santana cleared books, crumpled notepaper and clothing off the floor, organizing them into piles for shelving, sorting, filing and washing. She went to Brittany's bedside table, clearing the jewelry and empty cups that had accumulated there. Scooping up a few coins, Santana opened the small round box Brittany kept on her bedside table. It always had knick-knacks and spare change inside, but Santana was surprised to discover it was empty except for one thing: the promise ring she had given Brittany for their first Christmas as a couple. She stared at it, frozen yet boiling. Brittany had been unable to get out of bed for weeks, and yet she had suddenly managed to book a flight, pack a suitcase, and intentionally leave behind the one thing she knew would sting Santana the most. She held the box as she sank back onto the bed. The coins fell from her other hand.

Elinor poked her head into the bedroom when she heard the rustling of papers and clothes had lulled.

"Everything okay there, Lopez?" she asked with smile.

Santana just sat with her back to Elinor, staring at the container in her limp hand. After what must have been a full minute of silence, Santana hurled the box against Brittany's closet door, screaming, "_Fuck you,_Brittany!" It clattered to the floor and the ring rolled across the carpet. The hand that had thrown the box flew to her face, covering her eyes. Her shoulders wilted. "Fuck you…" she whimpered as she started shaking with sobs.

Elinor gave Santana a moment to calm before walking around the bed. She sat down a foot away from Santana, waiting until she looked up.

"I'm a horrible person," Santana mumbled, hands flopping into her lap.

"No you're not," Elinor shook her head. "It's okay to be mad at her."

"I don't _want_ to be mad at her…" Santana whined. "I want to be _with_ her, talking and fixing everything, not having all these… _outbursts!" _she whimpered. "One moment everything's fine and I think I'm starting to feel better… and then I see something small like one of her hair clips or her stupid organic cereal and… I just fall apart again!" Santana sniffled.

"Yeah… those big emotions sneak up on you and it's hard to feel in control," Elinor said, giving Santana a sympathetic smile.

Santana nodded, staring at the floor. After a moment she turned to look at Elinor, a flicker of fear in her eyes. "What am I going to do if it happens while my _parents_ are here? I _can't_ cry in front of them. They would know something was horribly wrong."

"Do you want me to hang out with you guys?" Elinor offered. "If you feel tears sneaking up you can take a break and go cry in the bathroom while I entertain them with my impeccable wit."

Santana sniffled and sat up a bit. She wasn't sure what she had done to deserve such a good friend. "You would do that?"

"Sure. It's only two days," Elinor shrugged.

"Okay…" Santana nodded, wiping her nose. "That would be great. We can tell them you're crashing here for a few days while your house is being fumigated or something like that."

Elinor chuckled and patted Santana on the knee before standing up. She picked up the box and put the ring back inside, placing it on the table. Her words were cheerful as she patted the lid and instructed, "Leave it there. She'll come back for it."

Santana sighed, her shoulders drooping again. "I don't think she's going to, El…"

* * *

><p>The polyester robe Santana wore wasn't breathing very well, and it was sweltering for May in New Haven. She prickled with sweat as she stood in a line of fellow Law School graduates while a droning litany of names was read over the sound system. Finally, the person in front of her stepped onto the stage and she knew she was next. Before taking her first step, she looked out at the audience. In the far left corner she could see her parents waving programs in front of their faces to fan away the heat. Elinor sat beside them, smiling.<p>

Santana grimaced, thinking how it was supposed to be Brittany sitting there. She tried to push the thought away.

She heard her name read and stepped up onto the stage, plastering a brave smile on her face as she walked toward the first Dean in a line of many who were waiting to shake her hand. At the end of the handshakes, she was handed her diploma. She felt pride swell inside her chest, but it was hollow; it was merely a frame of sticks and rubber bands holding her torso up, keeping it from deflating too soon.

Twenty minutes later, Santana stood in a cluster with Elinor and her parents on the New Haven Green. Similar groups of new Law School graduates and their loved ones were scattered across the lawn, hugging, patting shoulders and shifting their feet awkwardly.

"Let's see it, Santana!" Elinor cheered, gesturing to the leather-covered folder that contained Santana's diploma. Santana opened it and Elinor, Antonio and Dolores looked at it, beaming.

"You must be _so_ proud, Dr. and Mrs. Lopez!" Elinor sang.

"We are indeed," agreed Dolores, nodding. "Santana has made us proud."

Santana's chest squeezed. She couldn't remember the last time she had heard her mother say she was proud of her. Her throat felt tight, but the picture wasn't complete enough to make her cry happy tears; Brittany should have been there.

Santana felt her phone vibrate against her hip in two short pulses. She reached into her unzipped gown and pulled her it out of her khakis. She squinted to see the screen in the bright sunlight. She could barely make out the alert bubble.

_New text message from: Brittany_.

Santana's heart thudded in her chest and the back of her legs went numb. Not taking her eyes of her phone, she handed her diploma to Elinor, turning as she took a few steps away from her parents. Her thumbs fumbled with the buttons as she opened the message:

_Congrats._

That was all it said.

Santana's fingers couldn't move fast enough as she hit the _Call Contact_ button on the side of the screen. As she brought the phone to her ear, she turned to Elinor and stammered, "I need to make a call." Her eyes were wide, conveying the urgency of what she was doing. Elinor understood immediately and asked Antonio a polite question about his medical practice as Santana trotted across the lawn in her heels.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up," Santana chanted as she rounded the corner of a building. She hovered against the bricks, tapping her foot furiously as she listened to the metallic ringing pressed against her ear. She heard a click and her heart stopped for a moment. Then she heard:

_"Hi. You've reached Brittany Pierce. I'm not available right now, so leave a message!"_

Brittany's voice was cheerful and bright, yet Santana had never been so disappointed to hear it. She longed for the monotone she had grown accustomed to over the months before Brittany left; that deadened sound would have given her hope that her world could be restored. She hit the _End Call_ button. As soon as the screen flickered back to home, she hit _redial_.

"Come on, baby…" Santana murmured, tapping her foot again and shivering despite the heat as she raised the phone to her ear. "I _know_ you're there."

The phone rang and rang before going to voicemail again.

"_Hi. You've reached Brittany Pierce. I'm not available right now, so leave a message!"_

Santana hung up and hit redial again. "Come _on_, Britt, pick up!" she whispered. The phone rang once before going to voicemail.

"_Hi. You've reached Brittany Pierce. I'm not available –"_

Santana hung up. She was tempted to throw the phone down on the pavement, dashing it to pieces. Instead she tucked it back in her pocket and leaned against the brick wall, looking up at the sky. She let a few angry tears fall, watching the wispy clouds swim in her watery vision. After a moment she wiped her face and sighed. Steeling herself, she turned and trudged back to her parents and Elinor.

* * *

><p>A month later, mid-June 2019<p>

* * *

><p>The phone rang five times before going to the Pierce's voicemail. That was odd; they always watched <em>Saturday Night Live <em>on the DVR together on Sunday nights. Santana called again. It rang fives times, then went to voicemail. She called once more – she was nothing if not persistent. It rang once before she heard someone pick up the receiver and set it back in its cradle. The call ended. Santana blinked at the screen of her phone. Trembling, she walked into the living room where Elinor was sitting cross-legged amongst piles of books and legal files. Elinor looked up and smiled. Seeing Elinor's face, Santana felt the familiar safety that allowed a few silent tears to escape.

"Did they answer?" Elinor asked, her smile dissolving when she saw Santana's tears.

Santana shook her head. "No. They hung up on me without saying anything." There was silence for a moment. Santana wiped her eyes.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. Do you want to call it a night?" Elinor asked, gesturing to the piles of books around her.

"No," sniffed Santana.

"Do you _ever_ stop working?" Elinor teased with a gentle smile, trying to cheer Santana.

Santana sat down, shoulders hunched. "Brittany used to say that."

Elinor's smile faded. "I'm sorry… well, _I_ think your work ethic is admirable. Bordering on masochistic at times, but admirable. The bosses think you're doing great so far."

Santana scoffed. "I find that hard to believe. I feel like a zombie all day at work... But anyway, the test is only a few weeks away, so I need to study every minute I can."

"Okay," Elinor agreed, looking back at her papers. "Do you want me to go over subpoena procedures with you?"

Santana nodded, but eyed Elinor with doubt. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"I can't let my debts go unpaid!" Elinor lilted with a wink. "I owe you for letting me crash here during the Sophie debacle."

"Okay… I guess I need all the help I can get."

Elinor smiled and opened a thick volume. They poured over it, side-by-side as Elinor answered Santana's questions, giving anecdotes from Kelley & Fischer. They studied until Santana's eyes grew too heavy to keep open.

"Can I just rest my eyes for a few minutes?" Santana asked, yawning.

"Of course, go for it. I need a break anyway."

Elinor walked into the kitchen for a glass of water as Santana lay down on the couch, closing her eyes. She wasn't sure how long it had been when she felt a blanket being tucked around her and heard Elinor straightening books and papers on the table.

"I'm setting your alarm for you," Elinor murmured, brushing Santana's hair from her face. "Go to sleep, sweetie."

Santana hummed a response, already half asleep.

* * *

><p>Elinor pulled up to Santana's apartment two weeks later.<p>

"Thanks so much for the ride, El. I didn't realize what a pain in the ass it is to have work done on my car."

"No problem. Oh hey, I have a bunch of files for you in the trunk," Elinor remembered. "I'll help you carry them up." She pulled into an empty parking space.

Elinor and Santana carried the crate up the stairs.

"Want a drink?" Santana offered. "God knows I need one."

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Santana?" Elinor said, squinting. "It's been kind of a roller coaster week for you…"

"Okay fine, _mom_. Juice instead?"

Elinor chuckled. "I could go for some of those cookies I know you have in your cabinet."

"Sure, they're all yours."

A few minutes later they sat on opposite ends of Santana's couch, a plate of cookies between them.

"So this is totally awesome," Santana snarked, rolling her eyes. "I just graduated law school and I'm having cookies and juice like I just graduated _kindergarten_."

"Oh, don't give me that," Elinor huffed. "Cookies and juice are the shit. I'm almost _thirty_ and you don't hear me complaining."

"Damn, I can't believe how _old_ you are!" Santana snickered, pointing a finger at her friend. "You're going to be a spinster soon. I've got five more years until I'm required to adopt a bunch of cats and take up crocheting."

"Shut up, thirty is the new twenty."

"Which would explain why we're having juice instead of alcohol," Santana quipped. "Can we at least have a cigar or something?" she whined.

"Ew, gross," Elinor wrinkled her nose. "Did Brittany put up with that?"

"No," Santana muttered. "I haven't had one since high school."

The merriment in the room had dropped at the mention of Brittany's name. Both girls reached for another cookie, filling their mouths to compensate for the sudden lack of conversation. They ate in silence until all the snacks were gone and their glasses were empty.

"It's getting late…" Elinor sighed. She stood up to take the plate and cups into the kitchen.

Santana looked up. Elinor looked beautiful in the dim light of her living room. "Do you want to stay?" she asked. She was surprised by her own words.

Elinor paused. It was unclear what Santana meant by her invitation. "I should go home."

Santana nodded. Elinor took the plate and cups to the sink.

Santana embraced Elinor at the door, wrapping her arms around Elinor's neck. "Thank you," she murmured.

"Mm hm," Elinor hummed. She placed her hands on the small of Santana's back.

Santana held her there for a moment. Elinor was warm. She was real. She was _there_. Santana felt the summer sun flash through her. It had been so long; she didn't want it to leave. She clung a little tighter to Elinor, feeling her muscles loosen as she did. Her nose and eyes suddenly seemed clear and dry. She turned her head into Elinor's neck, breathing in her smell. The scent took her back to the reservoir. However distant those memories were, they were still there. Her lips parted, just a whisper above Elinor's skin, so close she could almost taste the salt. She held there, her lips hanging over Elinor's pulse like a gull hovers over the water without beating its wings. Santana could feel Elinor's heart pounding against her chest. She felt as if her own pulse stopped. She held her breath and slid her hand up into Elinor's hair. She froze for a moment.

"Don't," murmured Elinor, her body going rigid.

Santana's eyes fluttered open, but her body stayed still.

"Don't," repeated Elinor, louder this time.

Santana pulled her hand out of Elinor's hair as Elinor let go of Santana's waist, stepping back. Santana was dropped with a thud back into her apartment, away from the relief of the reservoir. Her stomach clenched. She was _horrified_ by what had almost happened. _What_ had come over her? She didn't want Elinor. Elinor was her friend, the most loyal one she had at the moment. The _only_ one she had at the moment. And there was no one in the world she wanted more than Brittany.

She ran her hands through her hair, gripping it in her fingers, tugging at her scalp. She gasped, exhaling as she let her hands fall at her sides.

"It's the same thing as before," Elinor bristled. "It's about her. It's _always_ been about her."

Santana nodded and crossed her arms, keeping her gaze down.

Elinor picked up her purse. She didn't smile. "I'll see you at work tomorrow."

Santana didn't reply. The door shut. She remembered something Elinor had said to her only a few months before: _You have to get over someone the hard way or you don't get over them at all._

* * *

><p>Santana walked through the office the next morning wary of her surroundings. For once she was glad her cubicle wasn't near Elinor's office. She sighed as she settled into her chair and flicked on her computer monitor. As it sparked awake, she opened the drawer to her right and placed her purse inside, leaning back in her chair as she opened her email client and scrolled through a few messages. When she was finished sorting them, a new message popped up at the top of the list.<p>

From: _Elinor Kelley_

Subject: _I thought you'd like to know…_

Santana clenched her jaw and clicked it open. The message read:

… _this morning I accepted a job in Columbus. I just put in my two weeks' notice and I leave on July 25th._

Santana stared at the email in a panic, convinced she had pushed her friend to take another job by her actions the night before. She whirled around in her chair and slunk through the rows of cubicles to the door of Elinor's office. She raised her hand, pausing for a moment before she knocked.

"Come in," Elinor called from within.

Santana opened the door a bit, peeking in. Elinor looked up.

"Hi," Elinor said, looking back down at the files on her desk. Santana's pulse pounded as she walked in and closed the door behind her.

"I got your email."

Elinor didn't respond.

"Is this about what happened last night?" Santana ventured. "Because I'm really sorry, I don't know what I was thinking…"

"Nothing happened," Elinor shrugged, scribbling on a legal pad. "We're fine."

"So… how come this sudden change of plans?" Santana pried.

Elinor gave Santana a curious frown. "It has nothing to do with you. An opportunity came around I couldn't pass up. That's all."

"Okay," Santana said, unconvinced. "Do you want to get lunch later?"

"I'm swamped today," Elinor evaded.

"I'm really sorry, El. You know how I'm just… crazy and impulsive since she left. I really didn't mean to put you in an awkward-"

"It's not _about_ that, Santana," Elinor snapped. "I really am busy today."

"I want to hear about this new job."

Elinor's phone rang. She held up her finger to Santana as she picked it up. "Elinor Kelley, attorney-at-law," she answered. She listened to the voice through the receiver for a moment before putting her hand over the end and whispering, "I have to take this," to Santana.

Santana nodded and backed out of the room. She trudged back to her cubicle, humiliated. Elinor might have _said_ they were fine, but her behavior indicated otherwise.

* * *

><p>A few hours later Elinor tapped Santana on the shoulder. Santana was startled, not having noticed Elinor's reflection in the computer monitor.<p>

"Hey," Elinor chirped, tapping her shoe against the wheel of Santana's chair. "Let's get lunch."

Santana was uncertain. Elinor seemed upbeat, but Santana wasn't sure if her tone was sincere. "Really?"

"Yeah, my treat," Elinor offered.

"Okay," Santana shrugged. She opened the drawer and took out her purse. She stood and took the blazer off the back of her chair.

Twenty minutes later they were sitting in an Italian restaurant down the street. They ate their salads as Santana wondered what to say.

"So the reason I didn't tell you about this new job is because I wasn't sure how you'd react," Elinor said in an attempt to break the awkward silence. "I was pretty sure you'd be mad."

"Well, getting a cryptic email first thing in the morning wasn't _exactly_ the best way to tell me, but I'm sure you had your reasons," Santana said, giving Elinor the benefit of the doubt.

"I think you're going to hate me," Elinor hedged, taking a bite of her salad.

"Well even if I do, you're leaving anyway, so I just tell me," Santana shrugged.

"I'm going to Columbus to work at Walters & Associates," Elinor explained.

"So?" Santana frowned.

"Well the real reason I'm going back to Columbus is because…" Elinor sighed, "Jordan and I have been talking again. We're gonna see what happens."

"Wait, wait, _hold_ on," Santana said, waving her hand over her plate. "_Jordan_? From a million years ago? The one you ran into at Pride when we went together?"

"Yeah…" Elinor looked sheepish.

"You're dropping everything and moving Columbus to be with a girl who broke your heart not once but _twice_?"

"See, I knew you'd hate me!" Elinor accused in triumph.

"I don't hate you, I just can't see _why_…"

"Wouldn't you do that for Brittany if she said she wanted to work things out?" Elinor asked, eyebrows raised.

Santana was struck mute by the question. She exhaled, shoulders drooping. "I would," she mumbled.

Elinor took another bite, chewing slowly. "Jordan is my Brittany," she said after she swallowed. "Her hold on me never went away. If she had reappeared when I was with Sophie, I honestly don't know what I would have done."

Santana didn't know what to say to that, so she changed the subject. "So… you being all cold and bitchy this morning had nothing to do with last night," she stated, seeking confirmation.

"No," Elinor shook her head, laughing. "I know you're in a weird place since Britt left. I was chilly this morning because of my uncle's reaction when I gave my two weeks."

Santana let out a huge sigh of relief. "Okay good. Because I _so_ don't think of you like that."

"I know," Elinor responded with a smug smile, licking her fork. "If I had a dollar for every time a heartbroken girl made a pass at me, I'd be rich."

"Oh, _please_," Santana scoffed. "You make it seem like you've got thousands of hysterical friends who need comforting. Do you keep a rotation?"

Elinor laughed and continued eating her salad. Santana took a bite of hers, smiling around her forkful, relieved she hadn't permanently altered their friendship.


	42. Torch

**Chapter 42: Torch**

Chapter title and **soundtrack** song: "Torch" by Alanis Morissette

A/N: You may have guessed by now that, like Santana, Alanis Morissette is my muse. Much like Santana in this story, over the years she has grown and her music has evolved to have more depth and less anger. Her songwriting is so poignant and full of raw emotion, no one else could write an appropriate soundtrack for these recent chapters. I hope you take a few seconds to pull up the track on YouTube before reading so you get the full experience.

Thank you so much to my wonderful betas for this chapter, Mia and TerribleMuriel. Their brilliance makes me look good!

* * *

><p>Two weeks later, Santana watched Elinor pull away from the curb in her U-Haul, waving until she rounded the corner. She was sad to see her go; Elinor had made the past few months almost bearable. They had spent the last two weeks packing Elinor's belongings into boxes and crates. Santana was still dubious about things working out with Jordan, but it wasn't her place to say anything. Every time she taped a box shut, she silently hoped Elinor wouldn't be repacking the same box any time soon.<p>

Helping Elinor pack up her apartment had been exhausting, but it made Santana realize she needed to make some changes in her own house. As she drove home, she thought of ways she could rearrange her furniture and make her place more her own and less the apartment she had shared with Brittany for three years. Brittany still wasn't answering her calls, so Santana had decided that, while she would continue to call _every_ day, she needed to give herself respite from the constant reminders of Brittany's absence. The hair clips, the cereal boxes, the toothbrush sitting next to Santana's – they all needed to be put out of sight.

Santana sighed as she shut the door to her apartment. She set down her purse and looked around, deciding it was now or never. The first thing she did was take the slipcover off the couch. This made the whole living room look remarkably different. She opened the blinds and let the late afternoon light pour in, looking around to see what else she could alter. She turned the coffee table sideways, decided it looked forced, and moved it back.

Hands on her hips, she moved to the bedroom. She didn't want to open Brittany's closet just yet, unsure of how she might react to its contents. She decided that the biggest difference she was ready to make would be to move the bed to the opposite wall. That made the room different enough, almost as if Brittany had never been there. Almost.

She sorted through toiletries and food and laundry and books, storing reminders of Brittany in the closet where Brittany kept their Christmas decorations. Shutting the closet door, she leaned her forehead against it and closed her eyes. She thought of all the things inside she had once taken for granted; Brittany's running shoes, always set carefully by the door; Brittany's favorite poetry books, always in a neat stack under the coffee table; Brittany's hairbrush, always sitting in its basket by the bathroom sink; Brittany's 'special occasion' perfume, always sitting on the back of the toilet; Brittany's apron, always hanging from the handle of the oven; all the things that were part of the girl she still loved more than anything in the world; all the things she didn't know if Brittany would ever come back for.

After a late dinner of leftover chicken and sautéed zucchini, Santana went out to get the mail. She flipped through her bills as she walked back into the apartment. There was a letter from her bank marked 'Second Notice.' She opened it and groaned – it was an overdue notice for her credit card. She had forgotten to pay it this month. Since they had a joint account, Brittany had always taken care of their bills.

After changing into her pajamas and brushing her teeth, Santana opened her laptop and signed in to her bank account. She scanned the charges and was about to click 'Pay' when an odd transaction caught her eye. At first she didn't know what it was. It read: _730 W Market Street Walgreens Pharm Lima._ The amount was $23.52. Why was her credit card being charged for –

Oh. Of _course_.

Brittany still had access to their account.

Santana was relieved that Brittany was alive and well enough to go to the store, but also upset that Brittany was spending her money and still refusing to talk to her. Before she could determine if she was more upset than relieved, she noticed another transaction. It was a deposit made to their checking account the day after the purchase, in the amount of $25.00. She scrolled down further, seeing a similar pattern of charges and deposits for transactions at a gas station and a bookstore.

Brittany was reimbursing their account for minor purchases.

Santana stared at the web page for a few seconds before bursting into tears. This seemingly inane act of refunding Santana for petty purchases was so quintessentially Brittany, it reminded her of the things she loved most about the girl; her integrity, her attention to detail, her quiet way of always doing the right thing… it was all there between the transaction numbers.

Santana shut her laptop, turned off the lights, and climbed into bed, pulling the covers over her head. She cried as she pictured Brittany swiping their credit card through the machine at the locations listed on the bill. She replayed the images in her head over and over until she fell asleep.

* * *

><p>Several hours later Santana came to consciousness as if voices were murmuring around her. She realized the murmurs weren't voices but sensations in her body. She felt something new tensing in her gut. Well, it wasn't <em>new<em>... it was vaguely familiar. It was warmth and a tingling and a hungry ache. But it wasn't her stomach. It was – _oh_. Santana was surprised at how foreign her own desire felt after being drowned out by grief for so long. She hadn't touched herself since Brittany left; she hadn't felt the desire. She was a stranger in her own body as she dragged her hand across her stomach. Was this how she used to do it? _Yes, it was_, her skin hissed.

Inhaling, she pushed her fingers past the waistband of her pajamas and over the cotton of her underwear. Her hand rested over her mound with fingers splayed, feeling the warmth that burgeoned there. Her fingers curled down, fingertips finding the fabric moist, dampening as she pressed in a bit. She exhaled, remembering how good this felt.

Her hands passed each other at her belly button as she slid a hand down to her center and drew the other up to grasp her breast. Her fingers slipped under the cotton of her panties this time, tips buzzing with the heat of her skin. She spread her legs, inhaling before dipping into her wet folds.

Her nails had been short last time she touched herself. Until recent months she had always kept them neat and trimmed so they would never hurt when they intended to cherish. But she found it fitting this time when a long nail slid against her delicate flesh, its sharp drag alerting her body with its whisper: _this might not be safe_. Every touch felt as if it had mutated since the last time. Her hand knew its motions hadn't changed, but as her fingers began to pass up and down her sex, the reaction she had was different. A lighter touch now got a sharper response, and a rough touch was either painful or numbing. She felt she no longer knew how to pleasure herself. She had always appreciated the gentleness of Brittany's fingers; even when they were forceful, they were never too rough. Tonight there was something animalistic about her own touch that she couldn't control. Even though she meant to be gentle and her hand moved slowly, the motions seemed jabbing.

Her brow furrowed as her fingers slipped inside, searching for the place that would make her feel connected again. She winced as she pushed past flesh that hadn't been touched in months. Her body _ached_ for this touch and her fingers were eager. She pushed deeper, exhaling into the darkness as she relished the way her body hummed. She began the slow undulation with her fingers… in, out, in, out.

With her eyes closed, images hovered over her. Freckled skin… silky, champagne-colored hair… parted lips tugged between teeth… pink nipples so pale they barely stood out from the creamy skin of the breasts… lithe arms… eyelashes fluttering above flushed cheeks... a winking bellybutton on an undulating stomach… hips arched above her…

She winced at the memories floating above her as her tension grew. Was this okay?

She decided she would allow herself the images as long as she didn't entertain the tastes or the sounds or the touches. She held Brittany above her, not letting the illusion come too close. She pushed into herself harder, reaching down with her other hand to draw circles around her clit. He head arched back, delirious. She was _so_ sensitive.

And then it was Brittany inside her: Brittany's fingers beckoning, drawing her out, tempting her to the ledge; Brittany's tongue in her mouth; Brittany's wetness on her leg; Brittany's hand on her breast; Brittany's scent in the sparse air between them; Brittany's moist breath on her face whispering '_come for me, Santana._' It was Brittany smiling down at her as Santana's stomach clenched before she released. Brittany held her as she catapulted into climax.

No sooner had she hit her highest peak then her shoulders contracted inward. Whatever ache had been between her legs upon waking was now clawing violently in her chest. The feeling of being split from gut to throat came back. She felt soiled and worn as tears burst forth, choking her. She was shocked; sex was supposed to feel _good_. Her face contorting with the tears, head tilting back as pain ripped through the places in her chest that had just released. As soon as she could, she sat up and swung her legs down off the bed. Hair falling in front of her eyes, she stumbled to the bathroom and turned on the faucet. She rubbed soap on her hands and scrubbed them until they were raw and numb from the ice-cold water. She put her elbows on the counter and held her face in her hands, finding an ounce of relief in how cold they were against her burning, swollen cheeks. She let the water run for a few minutes as she sobbed, convinced that sex would never feel good again if she couldn't block Brittany out. She turned off the water, slumped back into the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, face first into the pillow. She drew her knees up under her, curling in like a small, frightened child. Her damp hands dragged against the sheets as she drew them towards the pillow, slamming it against the sides of her head as she screamed.


	43. Flinch

**Chapter 43: Flinch**

Chapter title and **soundtrack** song: "Flinch" by Alanis Morissette. I'll take a break from the Alanis after this, but I'm convinced she's Santana's spiritual sister.

A/N: Many thanks to my beta, Mia!

* * *

><p><strong>Early August 2019<strong>

* * *

><p>Two weeks later, Santana drove home, eyes almost shut with exhaustion, but somehow still awake. This was most likely due to her overwhelming relief and pride in her accomplishment; after months of studying around the clock and three full days of testing, she had finished taking the Connecticut State Bar Exam. Kelley &amp; Fischer had given her the week off to prepare and take the test, and now she planned to sleep straight until Monday. She pulled into her parking spot and sighed in relief as she set the emergency break. It was over and she could relax. As she walked up the stairs, her phone buzzed in her purse. She took it out and read a text from Brian: <em>Did you pass?<em>

Santana grinned and texted her reply, _Yes._

Brian quickly wrote back. _You're coming to Boston to celebrate tomorrow._

Santana smiled but groaned, texting back, _Bri, I'm so tired. Maybe next weekend._

Within seconds her phone buzzed again: _No excuses. You're driving up tomorrow or we come kidnap you ourselves. It's final_.

* * *

><p>"Santana <em>Fucking <em>Lopez!" Kelsey shouted, running across the overgrown lawn when Santana pulled up to the curb. "What _took_ you so long, sister!"

Santana smiled and climbed out of the car, receiving Kelsey's pummeling hug. "There was traffic," she defended as they broke away. "I'm awesome but I can't move cars with my mind."

"Try harder next time, I bet you could do it. Oh my god, _congratulations_!" Kelsey squealed, jumping up and down. "You passed the fucking Bar on the first try!"

"There was no fucking, but yes, I passed," Santana's grin grew as Kelsey's exuberance washed over her.

"So you're like… a _real_ lawyer now?" Brian's nasal voice cut into the conversation as he strode across the lawn. "Congrats, lady!" He pulled Santana into a crushing hug.

Kelsey rolled her eyes at Brian. "I still don't think we can call her a _lady_, but she is indeed a real lawyer."

"Careful what you say, Kel, she'll sue you for libel," Brian smirked.

"Libel is usually written or broadcast," Santana corrected. "What Kelsey just said would be tried as slander or defamation of character."

"Ha! Kelsey the Slanderer. I love it," Brian chortled.

"Oh my god, look at you," Kelsey chuckled, shaking her head. "Such a smart-ass."

"Some things never change," Santana shrugged, grinning.

The three friends stood at the curb for a moment, smiling. But things _had_ changed. It was good to see each other again, but Brittany's absence was glaring.

"So we have a surprise for you…" Brian taunted, his eyes flashing.

"Oh god, _please_ no strippers," Santana begged.

"Better than that!" Kelsey giggled. "Come inside."

They walked up the driveway and into the house. Kelsey and Brian beamed, watching as Santana as she scanned the living room. There was nothing new that she could see. Then she heard footsteps and saw a figure walking out of the kitchen.

"_Sasha_!" Santana shrieked in delight. "What the _fuck_ are you doing here!" She lunged at her friend, slapping her on the back as they embraced. "Did they kick you out of Argentina?"

"Not quite," Sasha said, grinning. "But my ex-wife did."

"Oh no!" Santana gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "I'm so sorry… God, you never tell me _anything_!" She swatted Sasha on the shoulder in disapproval.

"Eh," Sasha shrugged. "It was a while ago. I just did my thing, traveling around South America until I got stuff figured out. Things are great now."

"So are you back in the States for good?" Santana asked, hope lifting the corners of her mouth into a tentative smile.

"Yup," Sasha said with a smug grin.

"Where are you staying?"

Kelsey walked behind Sasha and wrapped her arms around her waist. Sasha intertwined her arms around Kelsey's. Their dramatic height difference was adorable.

"Here," smiled Kelsey.

"No _fucking_ way! _Again_, you two?" Santana shrieked.

Kelsey and Sasha nodded, grinning stupidly.

"I don't know what to say!" Santana sputtered. "I mean… congratulations!" she gave Kelsey and Sasha a big hug. "Dude, Sash, you are _killing_ me with all these surprises. I can't take it! Just… promise you'll tell me before Kel _gives birth_ or something crazy like that, 'kay?"

"Whoa, whoa…" Kelsey halted, "Easy, partner. No one said anything about babies!"

"Sorry, you're right. You'll want to travel the country by motorcycle first." Santana shrugged and shot Sasha a smug grin.

"How does that sound for a honeymoon, babe?" Sasha quipped, tilting her head back and up to look at Kelsey.

"I'll get my helmet," Kelsey deadpanned.

"Santana, don't jinx it, they're not engaged _yet_," warned Brian.

"Sasha doesn't waste any time popping the question," Santana jibed. "Sorry," she shrugged when Sasha shot her a disapproving look that quickly faded into a smile.

"Actually, neither of us want kids," Kelsey said. "We both think we'd be happier without them."

"Amen, sister," said Brian, "I can never understand people who say they're happy being the Cleavers."

"You could have fooled me with this adorable split-level with the big back yard. It's such a… _family_ home," Santana teased.

"Well, we _are_ 'family'," Kelsey grinned, extracting her arms from Sasha's. "I got all my sisters with me..." she sang as she winked at Brian.

Brian winked back. "No one understood why you two broke up in the first place… you were meant to be. I just can't believe you're kicking me out to start nesting. Such _les_bians!" he groaned.

Santana turned to Brian, "Oh, you must be heartbroken, poor thing. You and Kel are like Will and Grace, if Grace was gay too. Like we always said, it's the greatest les-bro-gay-mance that ever existed… and now she's leaving you. Poor _baby_…" Santana mocked him, patting his shoulder.

"More like kicking me out!" Brian sniffed, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye.

"The door of the Kelsha house is always open to you, Bri," Kelsey smiled.

"It's still the Brelsey house for a few more weeks," Brian corrected, pointing a finger at her. "I haven't moved out yet. I let Sasha stay only because I love you so much."

Kelsey rolled her eyes. "C'mon, it's a beautiful day. I'm surprised it's not hotter… it's been a miserable summer. Let's go sit outside!"

"Yeah, Brian, let's fire up the grill," Sasha suggested, hitching up her cargos.

"The _what_?" cracked Brian. "I'm sorry, do I _seem_ like I know how to use a grill?" His hand flitted to his pec that was well defined beneath a shirt that Santana mused he had probably purchased at Kids 'R Us.

Kelsey sighed and reached for Sasha's hand. "C'mon, Sash, let the girls paint their nails while we man the grill."

"If _only_ you were a man, Kelsey… if _only_ you were a man," Brian lamented.

The four friends went out onto the patio. Kelsey and Sasha huddled over a monstrosity of a grill while Brian and Santana sat in chairs under an umbrella.

"So how's it been?" Brian asked, eager to hear whatever Santana had to share.

"Horrible," Santana grumbled.

Brian pouted. "Well, just say the word and we'll drive down to New Haven."

"Totally," agreed Kelsey over her shoulder. "We'll take you out and buy you a lap dance," she winked.

"No thanks. It's been the year from hell, _literally_, with all the tests and papers and applications and interviews and… right now the most appealing plan for a night is sleeping."

"But you still have to go out!" Brian exclaimed, "You've gotta unwind or you'll end up all uptight and intellectual like that awful Intro to Philosophy professor we had… what was his name?"

"Dr. Melvin," Kelsey chuckled as she left the grill under Sasha's supervision and opened a bag of chips. She plopped down in a chair next to Santana and stuffed a handful in her mouth. "Yeah, we don't want you to end up like him."

"Guys, I can't help it, _okay_?" Santana defended, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yeah guys, cut her a break," Sasha said.

Kelsey offered the bag of chips to Santana, who shook her head.

"It's okay, Tan-Tan," said Brian, soft yet still patronizing. Santana shot him a dirty look at the nickname as he continued, "We know you're not Superwoman."

"_Actually_," Kelsey said, her mouth full of chips, "she _is_." She shoveled more chips into her mouth and garbled, "She had her heart broken and _still_ passed the Bar on the first try."

"Damn you, Brittany Pierce…" Brian said, shaking his head.

Santana's stomach twisted at the mention of Brittany's name. Of course Brittany's absence had been the elephant in the room since she had arrived, but she still preferred that it go unacknowledged.

"Did _no_ one try to talk some sense into that girl?" Brian chided. "I mean, what was she _thinking_?"

Santana shrugged, looking down at her lap. "Guess she thought I wasn't good enough for her…" she mumbled.

"Hey, no self-hate in the Kelsha house," Kelsey reprimanded. "You're plenty good enough for her."

"So how have the Sox been doing this season?" Sasha asked, shooting Santana a knowing look.

"Girl, you did _not_ just ask me about sports…" Brian whined.

"She was asking me, fruitcake," Kelsey said, throwing a chip at him. "I love baseball."

Santana mouthed _thank you_ to Sasha, to which Sasha mouthed back _no problem_. Santana was relieved to know she could count on Sasha to steer the conversation away from Brittany for the rest of the afternoon. If she had to choose anyone to fill in as the fourth wheel, Sasha was the only person who could do the job.

* * *

><p>Santana tilted her head back against the headrest of the driver's seat and sighed, a smile flitting across her lips. Smiling was an unfamiliar sensation lately, but tonight she couldn't help herself. It had been such a wonderful surprise to see Sasha and to hear that her college friends were doing so well. She had forgotten how their witty banter could keep her in stitches for hours, and felt a healthy ache in her stomach from laughing so hard. For a moment she forgot her own sadness - but only for a moment. As the road twisted away from her friends, she felt heavier, knowing the sadness would set in again as she got closer to New Haven and the things that reminded her she was alone.<p>

She drove down the interstate longing for the feel of her head against her pillow. At least in sleep she sometimes got relief from her sadness. But she knew she would be alone in her silent apartment again, and she dreaded that. Trying to distract herself from thinking about Brittany, she called Elinor. The call went to voicemail, and Santana set her phone back in the cup holder. Now that they lived ten hours apart, Santana was lonelier than ever. She hadn't heard from Elinor since a few days after the move. She hoped that the silence meant Elinor and Jordan were living in rekindled bliss, but she knew it probably meant things weren't going as well as Elinor had hoped. Her stomach twisted, thinking about all that Elinor had sacrificed for someone who might very well break her heart again. She didn't want that for anyone, least of all someone as kind and loyal as Elinor.

At last she pulled into her assigned parking space and climbed up the stairs to her apartment. Sighing, she turned the key in the lock and opened the door, entering and kicking off her shoes, her actions rote. She took a few steps into the hall before she realized the light in the apartment was different. There were candles glowing in the living room a few yards away. She looked up.

Brittany was sitting on the couch.


	44. Falling Slowly

**Chapter 44: Falling Slowly**

Chapter title and **soundtrack** song: "Falling Slowly" by Glen Hansard & Markéta Irglová from the movie _Once_. I pick my soundtracks carefully, so I hope you listen and enjoy.

Thanks Mia!

* * *

><p>It wasn't an illusion; Brittany was really there, sitting on the couch, her hair falling around her solemn face in waves. She looked positively angelic in the candlelight. Santana's keys slipped out of her hand and onto the floor as she felt a tornado whip through the room. Her limbs were frozen in the center of the gale.<p>

Brittany stood up, making the room blur.

"You're back," Santana whispered, air fleeing from her lungs as she reeled.

"I'm back," Brittany echoed. Her voice trembled.

Both women stood stock-still. The only movement in the room was the flickering flames of the candles around them, yet Santana could have sworn that everything around her was spinning. Neither woman said a word for a full minute.

Brittany took a deep breath. She glanced to the side before her gaze fluttered back to Santana. "I was sick," she stated.

Santana gulped and blinked, trying to steady herself. Her heart raced. "Are you… are you okay now?" she stuttered.

Brittany nodded. "I got some help."

"How?" Santana breathed. _Who_ had been able to help Brittany in ways she couldn't?

"I went to the doctor." Brittany took a step toward Santana.

"But I thought you went to the doctor here…" Santana eyed the space between them.

"I lied," Brittany looked down, ashamed. "I couldn't get out of bed for my appointment… I didn't want you to be upset, so I just told you I went."

"Oh…" Santana's brows knit in hurt confusion. She was surprised and saddened that Brittany had been worried about disappointing her enough to lie.

"I'm sorry…" Brittany played with her hands.

Seeing Brittany so distraught was not something Santana had experienced many times before. She wanted to calm Brittany enough that Brittany would tell her exactly what had happened. Santana needed an explanation. "No, I should have gone _with_ you," she insisted, taking a step towards Brittany.

Brittany shrugged, still examining her palms. "I shouldn't have lied." Her eyes darted back up to gage Santana's reaction.

Santana was still too confused and curious to form a reaction. "What did the doctor say?"

"He sent me to a therapist," Brittany mumbled. Her gaze fluttered back to the floor as she added, "…and a psychiatrist."

The tornado slowed down a bit. "Did it help?" Santana asked, her eyes searching Brittany's. She took a few more steps towards her; they were only a few feet apart now.

Brittany nodded, looking up at Santana again. "They said… they said I was clinically depressed," she stammered.

Santana's brows arched and her gut tensed. "Really? But you're such a happy perso-" She caught herself. "I mean… you used to be."

Brittany bit her lip. She looked back down, tracing the outline of her hand with one finger. She nodded in acknowledgment, her head heavy. "I couldn't get out of bed. I didn't eat. I never wanted to have sex and I just slept all the time… you saw that part. And then I started having all these scary thoughts."

Santana's heart clenched, not wanting to believe what she was hearing. "What do you mean 'scary'?"

"Like, violent scary… I didn't feel safe anymore." Brittany's gaze drifted from the floor to the bookcase.

Santana hesitated to even ask. "But… you didn't try to hurt yourself or anything… _did_ you?"

"No." Brittany shook her head. Santana exhaled a little in relief. Brittany put her hands by her sides and shuffled her feet on the carpet, looking down again. A moment passed before she mumbled, "But I thought about it."

Santana was horrified. "Britt, that's really serious!" she gasped. Her whole body went cold, realizing Brittany could have done something much worse than leaving. "Why didn't you _tell_ me?"

"I didn't think you'd understand," Brittany shrugged, still looking down.

Santana had so many other questions. What was Brittany doing here? Was she back to stay? What did Santana need to do to make her stay? "I would have _tried_ to understand," Santana gushed. She felt sick to her stomach, convinced she would never be able make up for not seeing how ill Brittany had been. "Sweetheart, if I had known things were that bad I would have taken you to the psychiatrist myself or… I don't know, called your parents or consulted the counseling center on campus or _something_. I knew things were bad but I didn't know they were _that_ bad."

Brittany's face scrunched up in anguish as tears poured down it. "I can't believe I thought _you_ were the problem," she choked, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry, Santana!"

The wind rushing in her ears lulled as Santana became a shelter for Brittany, taking another step forward and embracing her. No matter how hurt and confused Santana was, she couldn't bear to see Brittany so upset. The warmth of Brittany's skin shot through her, grounding her. But holding Brittany was different now. It felt like returning to a house she had once lived in; the trees and flowerbeds and front steps were all there, but the sense of belonging was gone.

Brittany cried harder, hands still hanging at her sides. "You don't have to be so nice to me," she gasped into Santana's shoulder. "What I did was awful. I feel like a monster."

Santana rubbed up and down Brittany's back. "You're not a monster, Britt…"

Brittany leaned further into Santana's embrace and shivered as she cried into her shoulder. "You tried to make things better, but I just pushed you away... I feel so _stupid_," Brittany sputtered.

Santana squeezed her tighter. "You've never been stupid."

Brittany exhaled, her body going limp as she finally wrapped her arms around Santana. Santana held her up while Brittany whimpered against her for a minute.

"I want things to be different," Brittany sniffled as she steadied herself, standing back to look at Santana. Brittany's face was blotchy as her eyes darted over Santana's face, as if checking to make sure the pictures she kept in her mind matched what Santana looked like now.

Santana nodded, rubbing Brittany's arm. She wanted to calm Brittany, but she grew cautious when she realized she wasn't sure what Brittany meant. "What… _what_ do you want to be different?"

"Us," Brittany trembled.

Santana was taken aback. Did Brittany really think all could be forgiven so easily? She took her hand off of Brittany's arm.

Brittany backtracked at Santana's reaction. "I mean… if _you_ still want us," she stammered. She steeled herself and met Santana's unsure gaze head-on. "I still love you. I love you more than I ever thought was possible and it hurts so much when I think about what I did to you…" she looked around the apartment, eyes resting on the places where her belongings had once been. "I feel like such a traitor. Leaving you was the worst thing I've ever done, and I can't undo it. I understand if you can't trust me again…" Her eyes darted back to Santana, filled with hope and fear. "But I couldn't not try."

Santana felt the familiar tightness in her chest. She wanted to forgive Brittany more than anything, but her body was protesting. She took a step back. "God, Britt… I mean… the last four months were _awful_. I was lonely and confused and _constantly_ angry… I don't think I got through a single day without crying at least three times." Brittany's shoulders sank as Santana began to cry hot, angry tears. "I hated that you weren't talking to me, I hated that you weren't at my graduation and that I had to lie to my parents about where you were, I hated that you weren't here to come home to when I started my job, I hated eating dinner by myself every night, I hated sleeping alone... I was _so angry_ at you."

"I'm sorry," Brittany squeaked, her eyes betraying how terrified she was by what Santana might say next.

Santana wiped away a few tears. She sniffled for a moment, collecting her thoughts a she glanced around the room, remembering all the nights she had slept on the couch, the times she'd stared at the facedown picture frames, and the reasons why she had packed Brittany's things away. "I was _scared_, too," she admitted. "I was scared I would never know what happened. I was scared when your parents stopped answering my calls because I thought maybe something horrible had happened. And I was scared that maybe I just imagined how special we were together…" Santana's throat tightened and her eyes flickered back to Brittany's, seeing the candles' tiny reflections shimmering in tears that were filled with guilt and fear.

Santana softened, wondering if her words had been too harsh. She took a deep breath. "But even with all the anger and fear, I never stopped loving you. I love you more than I could ever _hope_ to understand. It's not going to happen overnight… but I would do _anything_ to fix us."

Brittany fell back onto Santana, shaking with renewed sobs. Santana made broken hushing noises into Brittany's ear, crying and running her hand through Brittany's hair. As she soothed Brittany, she felt her own chest slowly release, as if twenty rubber bands were being pulled off a rolled parchment one by one. She unfurled as Brittany pulled away. They both wiped their faces as relief washed over them.

"I was so scared, Santana," Brittany murmured, her voice shaking. "Sitting on the couch tonight wondering when you'd be home… I had no idea what to expect. All my stuff had been put away and you'd moved everything around… I thought maybe - maybe you were out with another girl."

"No, no," Santana cooed, rubbing Brittany's shoulder. "I couldn't even start thinking about that. I was in Boston with Kelsey and Brian and Sasha today."

Brittany embraced Santana again and squeezed tighter.

"We'll figure it out, okay? We'll put all the pieces back," Santana promised, rubbing Brittany's back. She pulled away and wiped the tears off Brittany's cheeks with her thumbs, smearing the salt away from the ocean.

Brittany pressed her cheek into Santana's hand, reveling in the soft, warm skin against her wet face. She exhaled, "I wanted to come home _so_ badly."

"So why didn't you? I mean, you didn't even call…" Santana dropped her hand from Brittany's cheek, remembering the hundreds of times she'd listened to Brittany's outgoing voicemail in the past months. Despite her relief they were going to try to work through this, she was already up against another surge of hurt.

"I know… I'm sorry," Brittany winced. Her shoulders drooped. "I was just so ashamed of leaving. I couldn't bring myself talk to anyone about it. I didn't explain anything, even to my parents."

"What did you tell them?" Santana asked.

Brittany shrugged. "I just figured they'd make their own conclusions."

"And did they?" Santana hated the idea of anyone knowing they had parted, especially Vickie and Gordon. Did they think she had mistreated Brittany? Asked her to leave? Cheated?

Brittany shrugged. "When I told them to stop talking to you they figured out something was really wrong. My mom took me to the doctor the next day."

"Why did you do that, Britt?"

"Tell them not to talk to you?" Brittany sought clarification. Santana nodded. Brittany shrugged, looking at the carpet. "Because I knew they couldn't give you any explanation that would be good enough. I don't have one." Brittany's eyes looked distant for a moment. "I just feel like my brain was hijacked for the past few months. Even when I was leaving I didn't really know why. All I can remember is that I thought you wouldn't love me if I was so sad."

"Britt, that's ridiculous… of _course_ I still love you when you're sad. I just need you to be here, and I need you to tell me what's going on, even if you think it will disappoint or scare me. All that _feelings_ stuff… it's really important." She gave Brittany a shy smile, remembering all the times _she_ had resisted talking about feelings. "I love you happy, sad, angry, scared, confused, and everything in between. I'd love you if you grew another head and only communicated with me by singing ABBA songs."

Brittany smiled and let out a small, gasping laugh, reminding Santana of all the times she'd seen that smile and felt at home. When Brittany's smile faded, Santana plummeted back into worry. She didn't want Brittany to disappear again just like her smile. She felt very small and helpless as she searched Brittany's face for certainty.

"Just don't go away again…" Santana whispered. "I don't think I could survive going through that another time." Fresh tears pooled and trickled down her face.

"I won't," Brittany promised, her face solemn. "I'm back for good."

"How do I know?" Santana choked, fear rising in her eyes. She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. Brittany had once been the only certain thing in her life. When Brittany left, she realized nothing was ever certain.

"Because I'm making you a promise," Brittany murmured, her voice low and serious. "I know it's going to take some time for you to trust that I won't leave. I understand. It would take me a while too. But I know – with more certainty than I've ever had – that I want to be with you more than I want anything else."

"Are you sure?" Santana squeaked, batting tears out of her eyes with her lashes.

Brittany nodded, pursing her lips as she held up her hand. Santana saw she had put the promise ring back on her finger, its tiny rubies shining in the warm light of the candles. "I swear I'll never take it off again."

Santana gave her a watery smile and nodded. "Okay." She sniffled for a moment. "If I start doubting, can you remind me?"

Brittany nodded. "Of course. If you need me to tell you a hundred times a day, I will." She reached out to wipe Santana's cheeks with her hand. "I want to be with you more than I want anything else," she murmured, echoing her promise.

"I want to be with you, too," Santana said, still shuddering with tears.

Brittany cupped Santana's cheek, looking into the dark eyes that were searching for certainty in her face. She stared into them until Santana's breathing evened and her tears stopped flowing, feeling the calm of Brittany's gaze and the warmth on her cheek.

"Can I kiss you?" Brittany whispered.

Santana nodded. She parted her lips as Brittany leaned in.

Santana felt weightless when their lips touched; she was floating and yet she was rooted. Brittany's lower lip rested between hers just long enough for her to feel it tremble. As their lips parted, they exhaled, keeping their eyes closed for a moment before looking at each other. Santana gave her a shaky smile as she searched Brittany's sparkling eyes. Still seeing the certainty and calm she needed, Santana remembered how tired she was. She took Brittany's hand and led her to the couch. They sat down, facing each other with their knees pulled up to their chests, hands resting on top of their feet.

They sat there for a few minutes, smiling in relief and gazing at each other. Santana hadn't felt this relaxed in months; her whole body felt warm.

"I feel like the luckiest girl in the world right now," Brittany whispered.

"Me too," Santana murmured back.

Of course it had been luck that had arranged for Brittany and Santana to meet and fall in love in the first place. They had been so fortunate to be able to build their lives together. But as Santana thought about it, she realized it had also been work: if she hadn't dealt with her fears about being gay, she wouldn't have had a chance to be with Brittany. If she hadn't struck up a conversation with Elinor in the bar that one night, maybe she wouldn't have been able to admit she was a lesbian and Brittany would have moved on. It was hard work that had gotten both of them into college - but maybe it was chance. Who knew what would have happened if they had gone to separate colleges? She started thing about other big parts of her life. Maybe it was hard work that had gotten her into Yale; maybe the admissions officer who read her application had been in a good mood that day. Maybe it was achievement that had landed her the job at Kelley & Fischer; maybe it was the good fortune of having Elinor as a friend, secretly pulling a few strings. Maybe it was her intentional efforts that had led her here, sitting on the couch across from the woman she loved; maybe it was a series of unlikely coincidences. The more Santana thought about it, the more she realized that every major event in her life was the result of both chance _and_ perseverance. Luck could only get her so far - it was also the actions she took and decisions she made that had landed her where she was today.

"Actually, luck isn't the only reason we're here," Santana retracted. "I know you worked hard to be where you are now – I'm sure it's not easy to overcome depression."

Brittany's smile faded as she looked around the room. Santana searched her face, wondering what she was thinking and if she had said something wrong.

Finally, Brittany spoke. "I'm really sorry about that time I snapped at you in the art gallery… it was stupid for me to say all your success was just luck. You're the hardest working person I know."

"You weren't totally wrong," Santana acknowledged. "It's not all hard work either. Sometimes good things happen for no reason. We just have to be smart enough to take the opportunity when they do."

Brittany nodded, smiling again. "Nothing is by chance alone."

Santana smiled back. After a moment she realized she needed to meet opportunity with action and passion right _then_.

"So how do we start again, Britt?" Santana murmured, resting her chin on her knees. "What do you want for us?"

Brittany looked up at their feet, lost in thought for a minute. Her gaze drifted back to Santana as she explained, "I want it to be like it was in college. I know that we have real-world stuff to deal with now; paying rent and insurance and all that. But in college we lived together and slept in each other's arms and we were _madly_ in love - and we also did things separately. I felt like myself then."

"You don't feel like yourself?" Santana asked, her chest dipping with guilt, horrified that she might have somehow caused Brittany's depression. "Did I ask you to be someone else? Because I never want you to be anyone but Brittany."

"No, no, you didn't. What happened wasn't because of one thing. I was bored and lonely, but my brain chemistry just went haywire, too. I thought I was overreacting to losing my job… I didn't understand why everything made me angry or made me cry. Nothing felt good anymore, and after a while I didn't feel _anything_. Dr. Lisa - my therapist - explained I didn't have the right serotonin levels or something. Like not having enough sugar in a pitcher of lemonade."

Santana remembered how dull and lifeless Brittany had been in the weeks before she left. It made sense now; losing her job had triggered Brittany to be a little sadder and more sensitive, and that dip in morale had become a crater when her neurochemistry fluctuated.

Brittany continued. "But before things got really bad, I put myself in this… _role_. My whole life was about being your girlfriend. I cooked and cleaned and organized and did everything I could think of to make your life easier. I thought making you happy would make me less sad."

Santana remembered Brittany's tireless efforts to help her in the months before she got depressed, and once again felt a pang of guilt. She should have been more appreciative. Maybe that would have helped. "You're an amazing homemaker, Britt. I had no idea you didn't like it."

"No, I like it," Brittany shrugged. "I like making our house pretty and I love taking care of you. But I totally isolated myself. I didn't make friends, I wasn't running or volunteering or working… I felt stuck being a New Haven housewife."

Santana felt another throb of guilt, realizing she would do anything to make sure Brittany never got that sad again. "I never want you to feel like you're 'just' a housewife, Britt. Even if you're not working, you're so much more than someone who takes care of me and makes our home pretty. I want you to be happy," she murmured. "Can you be happy here? Because we don't have to stay in New Haven. Maybe a new city would be good for a fresh start."

Brittany shrugged. "I can be happy here as much as I can be anywhere. You have a good job with health benefits and we need that stability. I can do things that make me feel like more than a housewife, and I know what to do if I get sad again."

"What's that?" Santana asked, eager to hear. She needed to have a plan in case things got bad again.

"Lots of things. Make more friends, for one. Work if I can find it. Run. Get out of the house every day. Maybe start doing Speakers' Bureau or something like that. I just need to have my own life."

"I want to help," Santana offered, squeezing her hand.

Brittany smirked. "But then it wouldn't be my own life."

"True," Santana grinned back, realizing the irony of her offer. Her expression turned solemn again. "I just… I want to give you everything you could ever want or need."

"I know," Brittany smiled sadly. "It's a very seductive idea, being someone's everything."

"I _do_ want to be your everything."

"I know, sweetie, but that's not how it works… _No one_ can be someone's everything. You have me, but you also need Elinor and your other friends and your coworkers… we can't just depend on one person for everything."

"I guess you're right…" Santana admitted. It was true; she absolutely needed Elinor and many other people in her life. But Brittany didn't have other people in her life. "I'm so sorry, Britt. I should have _known_ this would happen," she muttered as she brought a hand to her face, covering her guilty expression. "We came here for me to go to school but we didn't have anything planned for you. It was so selfish of me..."

"I came with you because I love you," Brittany reassured as she pulled Santana's hand off her face, clasping it again. "I want to be with you more than I want anything else," she echoed her promise.

Santana looked at her and contemplated the sacrifices Brittany had made. Since coming to New Haven, Brittany had been reduced to a shadow of herself. She didn't have a job, she didn't have friends, and she was often alone all day while Santana was busy working and studying. Santana realized that the past year had probably been worse for Brittany than it had been for her. She couldn't bear the thought of things ever becoming so one-sided again.

"How do we know you won't get depressed again?" Santana asked, brow furrowing with worry.

"We can't know." Brittany pursed her lips and shrugged. "There are no guarantees in life. But I know what to do if it happens again."

"What would you do?" Santana asked. She knew Brittany could accept uncertainty better than she could, and she wanted concrete steps to take if things started to decline again.

"We need to talk about things. A lot. Even when it's uncomfortable. I need to tell you if I start feeling isolated or if I start thinking about hurting myself. You need to tell me if you see me getting sad, or if you're frustrated and something isn't working for you. We might have to tell each other more than once, or in different ways. And if things start to get bad again, we have each other, but we also need support from our family and friends- and maybe therapy or couple's counseling or something."

Santana looked intently at Brittany and nodded. She was willing to do whatever it took.

"…And maybe medication," Brittany mumbled, looking away.

Santana saw the shame on Brittany's face and wilted with love. "There's nothing wrong with medication, Britt," she assured, her voice low and warm.

"I know…" Brittany sighed, her shoulders drooping. She pulled her hands from Santana's and ran them through her hair. "I never thought there was anything wrong with it either. It helps lots of people, but I never thought I would need it. I mean, I know I'm not special or different, and I'm glad its working… but…"

"…but it's different when it's you," Santana finished.

Brittany gave a timid nod. "They said medication doesn't change who I am, it just balances the chemicals in my brain. But it still makes me nervous to think that a pill can change so much."

"It hasn't changed you, B. You're happier, but you're still _you_. You're still lemonade. Just with more sugar," Santana offered. Brittany gave her a sad, thankful smile. "Whatever you need to do to feel okay – as long as it's safe - I'll support it."

Brittany nodded in agreement. "I won't have to be on medication forever," she shrugged. "We're going to try it for six months. It's been two so far. It usually takes about six weeks to kick in, otherwise I might have come back sooner" she explained.

Santana took Brittany's hands back in hers. "I don't care if you're on it for six months or six decades. What matters is you're feeling better and you're back home and we're going to put things back together. Whatever comes, I want to face it together." She squeezed Brittany's hands.

"Me, too," Brittany squeezed back. "I'm going to do a phone check-in every few weeks with my psychiatrist in Lima. Dr. Lisa said I can keep doing my sessions with her on the phone too, if I want."

"I think you should," Santana encouraged. She would provide as much support to Brittany as she could, but she didn't have any idea where to start. Professional help seemed like the safest best. "I don't want to take any chances."

"Me neither," Brittany agreed.

"Do you want to go to couple's therapy too?" Santana offered. Her face was earnest. "Because we can. I don't know what it's like, but I'll do anything if you think it will help."

Brittany smiled. "Let's start with just us. We can talk any time we want and it's free. I want to set aside a time every week to talk about our relationship; things that are good, ways to make it better, and anything that's bothering us."

Santana nodded. She thought the idea was brilliant; if there was something going on, she wouldn't have to figure out a good time to bring it up - because there never really was a good time – she would just know there was a time to talk about it. It was a relief to think about.

Brittany nodded too. She reached toward the coffee table and picked up a book Santana hadn't noticed before. "I got us a book to read together." She handed the book to Santana.

Santana looked at the cover. It was robin's egg blue with a picture of a knot on it. The title was _Hold Me Tight_.

Brittany explained, "When I started talking to my therapist about coming back, she recommended it. She said it would be a good way for us to talk about our feelings and grow closer. I read the first chapter and it seems awesome. Maybe we could read a chapter every week and talk about it during our check-in."

"Or we could read it out loud to each other," Santana suggested, imagining sitting in bed reading aloud after a long day at work. The image made her feel even warmer and more peaceful.

Brittany beamed. "I like that even better."

Santana squeezed Brittany's hand. "Okay. Let's start there."

Suddenly, Santana remembered the transactions on her credit card bill: the drug store, the gas station, and the bookstore. She realized Brittany had filled her prescription at the drug store, bought gas to drive to therapy, and picked up their copy of _Hold Me Tight_ at the bookstore. All the purchases Brittany had made and reimbursed her for had led her back to New Haven. If her heart hadn't felt full before, it did now.

"So what's next for _you_, B?" Santana wondered, gazing at Brittany in adoration as she set the book back on the coffee table.

"Who knows?" Brittany shrugged. "The world's my lobster."

Santana frowned. "Your lobster?"

"Yeah," Brittany chirped. "I like lobsters better than oysters."

Santana grinned. Brittany was definitely getting back to herself. "I like lobsters better too."

Brittany continued. "While I'm figuring out what's next for me, I want to help you get ready for the Bar. It's really soon, isn't it?"

Santana grinned. "I already took it."

"Already?" Brittany gasped. "I missed graduation _and_ the Bar?" Guilt passed over her face like a shadow and she looked away. "I'm a terrible girlfriend," she mumbled.

"It's okay, B. I mean, I wish you'd been there, but you had a lot going on."

"You graduated from Yale Law and took the Bar and all _I_ managed to do was get out of bed…" Brittany mumbled.

"Victories are victories, Britt. We're both strong. But I think we're stronger together."

Brittany flashed Santana a sad smile and returned to her previous inquiry, eyes wide with urgency. "So when was it? _How _was it?"

Santana beamed. "It was long. I finished yesterday."

"When do you hear?" Brittany demanded, brows arched high.

Santana couldn't help but look smug. "I already did. It's all computerized now."

"_And_?" Brittany exclaimed, sitting up straight and leaning forward in stiff anticipation.

Santana paused for effect, relishing the incredulous, alive expression on Brittany's face. It was so good to see after so long.

"I passed," Santana said with a smirk and a shrug of feigned indifference.

Brittany lunged at Santana, knocking her back onto the cushions, smothering her. "Sweetheart, I'm _so_ proud of you!" she shrieked.

Santana giggled, tickling Brittany's waist and making her squirm, basking in the weight of Brittany on top of her. After months of drifting, she finally felt grounded.

Brittany nuzzled into the crook of Santana's collarbone and hummed. "Mmm, I _knew_ you would pass the first time!" she said against Santana's neck. "It must feel so good."

Santana knew Brittany meant passing the Bar must feel good, but as she responded, she was referring to Brittany's body pressing her into the sofa, "You have no idea how good it feels."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Many of you expressed interest in hearing about Brittany's experience while she was away. At your suggestion (and with some encouragement from my Beta), **I have written a Brittany one-shot** that starts the day she leaves Santana and ends the day she comes back. It is titled "**Through the Dark.**"

**A/N 2**: As always, this chapter made possible by my wonderful beta, Mia. She probably spent as many hours processing this chapter with me as I spent writing it. She deserves ALL the fanfic editor awards. Her writing is amazing too - check out "The Pretenders." She captures Santana's HBIC voice perfectly.


	45. Wall In Your Heart

**Chapter 45: Wall In Your Heart**

Chapter title song and **soundtrack**: "Wall In Your Heart" by Shelby Lynne

A/N: Thanks for your continued enthusiasm for this story! It seems people are always asking for longer chapters, so here you go: my longest chapter to date! If you haven't gotten a chance, I hope you take a moment check out "Through the Dark" for better insight into what was going on with Brittany while she was away.

Thank you to my Beta, Mia. Check out her new story "Mariposa." It's gorgeous and follows Santana from middle school through her coming out process. Thank you also to TerribleMuriel for her thoughtful assistance with critical physical Brittana moments.

* * *

><p>Santana awoke to warm lips on her cheek. She smiled before opening her eyes; it hadn't been a dream. Brittany was really back. "Morning," she mumbled.<p>

"Afternoon," Brittany corrected, pecking Santana's cheek again. "It's almost one."

Santana arched her back, stretching as she opened her eyes. "Shit… really?" Brittany's outline blurred into view as she hovered beside the bed.

"Uh huh," Brittany nodded. "I made you breakfast. Lunch, I guess."

"Wha'd you make?" Santana croaked.

"Chocolate chip pancakes," Brittany said with a shy grin.

Santana gave her a sleepy smile back; that was what they'd had for breakfast their first morning as a couple eight years ago in the hotel room in Columbus.

"Did you sleep okay?" Santana asked.

Brittany nodded, but Santana wasn't convinced. Last night had been awkward. It felt very strange to sleep in bed together after so long…

* * *

><p><em>Brittany curled around Santana in their usual spooning position. But despite being exhausted, both girls lay wide-awake. Santana wondered if it was because they had never slept in the bed together since she had rearranged the room. After about five minutes, she decided that wasn't the reason and spoke up.<em>

_"Britt?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_This feels kind of weird. I love you… but I can't fall asleep."_

_"Me neither."_

"_Is it okay if we… sleep apart?"_

"_Sure. Do you want me to sleep on the couch?"_

"_No… the bed's fine."_

"_Okay. I'll just sleep over on my side." Brittany rolled over and pulled the covers up._

_After a few moments, Santana still felt uncomfortable with the silence. It seemed Brittany did, too, because she mumbled, "I love you, Santana."_

"_I love you too, Britt." Santana tried not to sound sad, but she was. She wished things could go back to normal right away._

_There was still tension as they lay on opposite sides of the bed in silence. Brittany rolled back toward Santana, placing her hand on Santana's shoulder. She tangled her fingers in Santana's hair as she murmured, "Good night kiss?"_

_Santana rolled over and kissed her, tasting toothpaste on Brittany's lips. She patted Brittany's cheek before kissing her again. "Love you, B."_

"_Love you, S."_

_Santana felt breath on her face as Brittany exhaled into a nervous smile. The tension had softened enough she could probably fall asleep now._

"_Good night."_

"_Good night."_

_They each rolled back onto their sides and eventually fell asleep._

* * *

><p>Santana sat up, smelling chocolate and butter in the air and hoping the tension from the night before wouldn't carry over into the day.<p>

"Your food is ready when you are," Brittany said with a timid smile.

"Thanks," Santana muttered, trying to wake herself up. She slid her legs off the bed, tying her hair back as she stood up. She followed Brittany down the hall to the table. There was a sunflower on the table in a mason jar.

Santana sat down at the place Brittany had set for her. She took a bite, giving Brittany a hum and a nod of approval.

They ate quietly for a few minutes. Santana tried to think of a conversation topic, but all she could think of was the weather and the things she'd been doing over the past months: studying, working, crying and sleeping. She didn't want to bring up their time apart over breakfast. They had a designated time for that now; Sunday nights after dinner.

"Pretty flower," Santana commented.

"I brought it back for you from Lima," Brittany said, her mouth full of pancake.

Santana flashed her an anxious smile and took another bite. The silence set in again as they ate.

"So, what do you want to do today?" Brittany finally asked when they were almost done.

Santana was relieved Brittany had broken the silence and decided to meet the effort with a gesture of forgiveness. "Let's put the apartment back the way it was," she suggested as she signaled for Brittany to wipe some chocolate from the corner of her mouth.

Brittany smiled and wiped her mouth. "Okay. I kind of like the couch without the slipcover, though."

"Yeah, me too. Let's leave that."

"Do you want to go for a walk?" Brittany asked.

"We could run," Santana offered.

"I can't run as long as I used to." Brittany looked a little uncomfortable at the admission, so Santana flashed her a look of sympathy. Brittany was still a little thin, but at least her face was bright and she seemed to have more energy.

Santana looked around the room for ideas. Her eyes fell on their copy of _Hold Me Tight_. "Let's read chapter one," she said, pointing to the book.

"Perfect," Brittany agreed. "Chapter one." She slid her hand across the table, offering it to Santana. Santana took it and gave Brittany a hesitant smile. Maybe things weren't back to normal yet, but they were happy to be trying.

* * *

><p>"I'm home!" Santana sang when she returned from work the following Monday. It felt good to come home when she knew her house wasn't empty.<p>

"Hey!" Brittany replied from where she lay on the couch. She sat up, setting her poetry book on the coffee table before standing to walk towards Santana.

Santana felt more rested than she had in the past few months as she stepped out of her shoes, placing them next to each other by the wall. She noticed Brittany's sneakers were lined up next to her sandals. "I see you went for a run," she smiled.

"Mm hm," Brittany hummed, walking over to greet Santana.

"And you got a haircut," Santana remarked, running fingers through the trimmed locks when Brittany came to give her a sky peck on the cheek.

Brittany tilted her head with an impish smile. "No, I didn't, I just got the ends dyed invisible."

Santana chuckled.

Brittany took a step back. "You look super sexy in your lawyer costume," she flirted, raising an eyebrow as she gave Santana a once-over.

"It's not a costume, Britt," Santana laughed.

Brittany shrugged. "Well, it's hot."

"Thank you," Santana replied. She appreciated the compliment, of course, but she felt the urge to change the subject. "What else did you do today?" she asked as she hung her blazer by the door.

"I signed up for volunteer training at the Rape Crisis Center," Brittany said casually as she went back to the couch.

"Whoa," Santana exhaled, taken aback. "Britt… are you sure that's a good idea?"

Brittany nodded as she sat down. "I wanted to do it in college, but I was so busy with Speakers' Bureau, I didn't have time to do the training. But now I have time!" she chirped, cheerful.

Santana was uneasy. "But it's so heavy… I mean I can't imagine…"

Brittany shrugged. "I may never have been raped, but I think every woman has had someone make a pass at her that wasn't wanted. Rape is just the most extreme version of that."

Santana nodded, contemplating. Maybe Brittany was right, but she was especially protective of Brittany's happiness at the moment. She didn't want either of them to take any risks. "So is it a phone thing, or what?" she asked, coming to sit next to Brittany on the couch.

"Mostly. But there's also hospital accompaniment and survivor advocacy. Pretty much anything the police and lawyers and therapists don't take care of."

"I hope it's not too much," Santana frowned, still concerned.

"If it is, I'll stop," Brittany said with confidence. "I'm pretty good with my limits."

"You are," Santana acknowledged. "And I'm glad you're getting involved with something you care about."

* * *

><p>"Hey sweetie," Brittany sang from the kitchen when she heard Santana come home from work two weeks later. She was standing over the sink peeling carrots.<p>

"Hey," Santana sighed. She was tired and hungry. The smell of whatever Brittany was cooking just made her hungrier. She kicked off her shoes.

"How was your day?" Brittany asked.

"Long. I'm pissed at this one guy in the office who keeps flirting with me. It's fuckin' annoying," Santana grumbled, flipping through the mail on the counter. "Ugh, and I got a crying, hysterical message from Elinor. Something about Jordan leaving and the rest was just sobbing. I called her back a few times but she didn't answer. So I don't know what to do about _that_," she griped.

"Oh no…" Brittany said, her shoulders drooping towards the sink as she paused from peeling. "God, when you told me why she left I was worried that would happen." She resumed peeling, shaking her head. "Elinor's has the _worst_ luck. She's so sweet to her girlfriends, why would anyone leave her?"

"What, like _you_ left _me_?" Santana blurted. The instant she said it she regretted it. Had she not been holding the mail she would have clapped her hand over her mouth.

Brittany froze. After a moment she laid the peeler in the sink, put the carrot on the counter and walked out of the kitchen and down the hall, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Wait, I didn't mean to snap at-" The bedroom door shut and Santana heard the lock click. "Shit," she muttered under her breath. She set the mail on the counter, walked down the hall, and knocked on the door. "Baby, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean it."

Brittany didn't respond for a minute. Finally the lock clicked and she opened the door. "Yes you did," she sighed, her tone resigned as she leaned against the frame of the door. "You said exactly what you meant."

Santana didn't know what to say. She wrung her hands. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I didn't mean to snap at you."

Brittany looked at the carpet for a moment before looking back up at Santana. "I know it's going to take time and a lot more than just me telling you I won't leave for us to be okay. But you need to find a way to talk about your trust issues so it doesn't come blurting out as an attack. When we do our check-ins you say everything's fine, but clearly it's not. Why haven't you said anything?" Brittany pressed.

"Because I don't want you to get upset and get depressed again," Santana mumbled, eyes fixed on the floor. "I like seeing you happy."

"That's sweet, S, but I'm not made of tissue paper," Brittany said, her voice softening. "I can handle you telling me things that aren't all positive; ignoring your feelings for my benefit will only hurt us in the long run. I knew this wasn't going to be easy and I came back prepared to do the work."

Santana was silent for a moment, eyes fixed on the floor.

"We need to talk about it," Brittany urged.

"Now?" Santana cringed.

Brittany shrugged. "It seems silly to wait until Sunday night since the issue's on the table already."

"Okay," Santana mumbled, looking at her toes as they traced a pattern on the carpet.

They stood in the doorway for a moment, Santana looking at her feet while Brittany tried to read her expression.

"Shall we go sit on the couch? Or do you want to just stand in the hall?" Brittany asked, a hint of teasing in her voice.

Santana gave her a wince of a smile and tipped her head toward the living room. Brittany let go of the doorknob and put her hand on Santana's back, encouraging her. They sat on the couch. Santana hunched forward, elbows on her knees with her head hanging down. Brittany sat a few inches away, turned toward Santana with her hand still resting on her back.

"So what's going on?" Brittany asked, her concern flowing through her words.

Santana was quiet for a minute, staring at the carpet through the glass of the coffee table. Finally she took a breath and began. "Do you remember that time in college when we talked about you being bisexual?"

"I don't remember the exact conversation," Brittany shook her head. "It must have been early on though, because I started identifying as pansexual sophomore year."

"Well, I asked you if you felt like you were giving something up to be with me because I was worried you would leave me for a _guy_." Santana smirked as she turned her head to gage Brittany's reaction.

"I do remember _that_ conversation," Brittany gave her a coy but reserved smile. The conversation Santana was referring to had inspired their first trip to a sex toy shop.

Santana's expression turned solemn again. "You said something that night that really stuck with me. You said that the biggest thing we give up when we let someone in is our emotional safety. And I _did_ with you. At seventeen I gave you my safety, and for seven and a half years it was perfect. But now it's the thing that's messing me up; I want to go back to what we had before _so badly_. But I can't. I'm _scared_, Britt." The words were hard to force out, and even as she did, Santana felt more afraid. Telling Brittany how she felt was scary.

Brittany rubbed Santana's back and gave her a sad smile. Santana was really trying. "Of course, sweetie. It's not going to happen overnight. It's okay to be scared. What can I do to help you feel safer?"

"That's the problem… I don't know. That's another reason I didn't say anything, because I feel like I need to have a solution." Santana returned to staring through the coffee table.

"You don't have to have a solution prepared when you bring up a problem, S," Brittany gave her a stifled smile.

Santana let out a sad chuckle, realizing how ridiculous her reasoning sounded when Brittany said it out loud. "But I likesolutions. Not knowing what to do makes me _really_ uncomfortable." She looked back at Brittany. I don't know, maybe try just _being_ with me; reassuring me, holding me… except not when I sleep, because then I can't… and saying that thing over and over."

"You mean 'I want to be with you more than I want anything else'?"

"Yeah," Santana nodded.

"Okay, but that's just words," Brittany frowned. "Is there anything else that would help?

"That's all I can think of…" Santana mumbled.

Brittany's tone became softer. "Would you like to try therapy together?"

Santana shrugged. After a moment she nodded. "It helped _you_, right?"

"It did. But you and me in therapy together might be different."

"We could do one session and then decide," Santana suggested.

"Okay. Let's do that," Brittany agreed, rubbing Santana's back. They sat quietly for a moment.

Santana was still frustrated. "I still don't know what to tell you."

"We don't have to know all the answers right away. Will you tell me if you feel uncomfortable?"

"Yeah."

"Even if you think it will hurt my feelings?"

"I'll try."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

* * *

><p>A few nights later, Santana lay on her side in bed reading one of Brittany's poetry books. After reading a few chapters of <em>Hold Me Tight<em>, she was curious about the things that inspired Brittany. Santana certainly didn't understand Brittany's appreciation for abstract and creative things like poetry, but she was curious nonetheless.

Brittany came out of the bathroom in her pajamas: a pair of flannel boxers and a white tank top. "Hey, pretty lady," she purred, crawling onto the bed and perching her head on Santana's shoulder, looking at the book. "Reading poetry?"

"Yeah," Santana twisted her head to give Brittany a shy smile. "Trying to figure out what you like about it so much." She looked back at the book.

"Mmm, well that's easy," Brittany hummed. "I like it because it's versatile." She ran a finger from Santana's temple down the side of her face. "Sometimes it's funny, sometimes it's sexy, sometimes it's fiery…"

Santana turned her head to look back up at Brittany, a smirk forming at the corners of her mouth. Brittany took the book out of Santana's hands and leaned over her to place it open on the bedside table.

Brittany continued purring, "Sometimes it drives me crazy with its mess and sometimes it really turns me on." She bent down and kissed Santana's forehead.

"Oh yeah?" Santana challenged, her smirk widening.

"Uh huh. Sometimes it's mysterious and sometimes it's full of emotion. I think that's when it's the most beautiful."

"Poetry, right?" Santana grinned.

"Yeah. What did you think I was talking about?" Brittany tilted her head.

Santana shifted onto her back.

Brittany leaned down again, kissing Santana full on the lips before murmuring, "My favorite poems are about love. Those are the most beautiful and mysterious of all." She reconnected their lips, gently tugging at Santana's with her teeth, running her tongue over them.

Brittany's kisses grew more intense, her body molding down against Santana's as her tongue darted deeper between Santana's lips. Santana shivered and ran her hand through Brittany's hair, feeling its fine strands slip through her fingers. Brittany ran her hand up Santana's side, sliding up to grasp her breast.

Santana flinched and broke away. "Britt, wait…" she protested. "I feel weird. I mean… you look fuckin' _hot_ right now and I want to… but I don't know…" she trailed off, looking around the room.

Brittany pushed up and rolled off of Santana.

Santana backtracked. "Wait, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to push you away…"

"It's okay, I understand." Brittany said as she crawled under the covers and curled onto her side, facing Santana. Santana rolled over, facing Brittany in a perfect mirror image.

"Are you sure?" Santana asked nervously. "Because I could probably-"

Brittany held up her hand, shushing Santana with a smile. "I'm really glad you said something and didn't go along with it just to protect my feelings."

"I feel bad though... It's been a really long time."

Brittany shrugged. "How about we talk about it in therapy tomorrow?" she suggested.

"Okay," Santana nodded. "Sounds good."

* * *

><p>"Hello, ladies," Dr. Murphey greeted. Brittany and Santana were sitting in the waiting room when she opened her office door. "Please come in."<p>

Dr. Murphey was professional and polished. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun and her clothes were ironed and starched. Santana was pleasantly surprised; she had expected someone eccentric, perhaps a caricature of every loony therapist she'd seen on TV - uncombed hair dyed red with an inch of gray roots showing and a long, flowing skirt made of hemp. But Dr. Murphey could have fit in perfectly at Kelley & Fischer with her pencil skirt and fashionable blazer.

Santana set down her magazine, took Brittany's hand, and walked into Dr. Murphey's office. Again, Santana was surprised. She had expected the office to be a whirlwind of papers, knickknacks, art supplies, and an assortment of statues from conflicting spiritual practices, but the room was spotless and stylized; everything was metal, leather or glass. The leather chair that was clearly Dr. Murphey's sat in the center of one wall, and on the other side of the room was a small couch flanked by two black armchairs. Santana and Brittany sat on the couch, hands held between them.

"Oh, I'm going to have you sit in the chairs," Dr. Murphey corrected them. "Then we all have our personal space." Every movement and word Dr. Murphey uttered was crisp and intentional. Brittany looked uncomfortable.

Santana stood up and reluctantly let go of Brittany's hand. If there was one thing that would make going to therapy less pleasant, it was being separated physically from Brittany for the entire hour. Even if she wasn't ready to have sex, holding Brittany's hand was familiar and comforting, especially in the face of an unknown endeavor like therapy.

"I'm glad you were able to come in," Dr. Murphey began. "I've never treated a lesbian couple before, so I'm looking forward to working together. And can I just say, you two are _stunning_."

Santana thought that was an odd thing to say, but she didn't know how therapists were supposed to act.

"So you're here to get back to normal as a couple?" Dr. Murphey asked.

Brittany gave Santana a nervous look and nodded.

"Tell me what normal is for you," Dr. Murphey invited.

Santana looked across the couch at Brittany, asking her to begin talking. Her look had a hint of yearning – it was odd to communicate by eye contact alone. Normally she would have given her a slight hand squeeze or a little nudge with her knee.

"Well… we always talked a lot," Brittany began. "We shared a lot of things, but we also had separate interests we were really passionate about. There was never any awkward silence. We just understood everything by the way we interacted with our bodies and our eyes. It was easy most of the time. We disagreed on lots of things, but it rarely became an argument or fight."

"Okay, so you're not a volatile couple. Good," Dr. Murphey said, bobbing her head once.

"No," Santana confirmed. "Far from it. Britt's a very calm, even person. She doesn't get shaken up about things easily."

"And do you?"

"More often, but hardly ever with her. I can count on one hand the number of times I've yelled at her."

"And you've been together how long?" Dr. Murphey asked.

"Eight years," Brittany and Santana answered in unison.

"Oh goodness! I thought we were talking about one or two years, tops," Dr. Murphey said, shifting in her chair.

Santana frowned. "Do people usually come to therapy if they've been together for just a year?"

"Oh, I don't know," Dr. Murphey shrugged. "I thought maybe it was different for two women. So what about money? Do you ever argue about finances?"

"Not really," Santana said, her frown relaxing a bit. "Money was a little tight for a while when I was in school, but Britt did a great job with the budget. We disagree on little things, but we're mostly good there."

"So Brittany is the breadwinner and manages the money," Dr. Murphey deduced.

"No, we share everything," Santana corrected. She was beginning to doubt that coming to therapy was a good idea. "Right now I'm working and she's looking for a job. She has more time and does a well managing the budget, so she's been doing that. But when it comes to big things we always decide together."

"How progressive," Dr. Murphey murmured, giving a terse smile.

"Not really," Brittany shrugged. Santana thought she saw the little crinkles of a frown forming on Brittany's face, but she wasn't sure.

"Brittany, you said something about finding your passion when we talked on the phone. Can you tell me more about that?"

"Well, since I got laid off in October I was having a hard time feeling like I had a purpose. I became clinically depressed and left for four months. Now that I'm on medication and back with Santana, I'm trying to focus on building an identity separate from her. But it's hard, because I'm also focusing on reconnecting with her and reestablishing our trust."

Santana thought it was a little cold in the room, but Dr. Murphey seemed comfortable. Brittany looked uncertain. Santana scanned the walls, noticing several diplomas and awards in large black frames. Dr. Rhiannon Murphey certainly wasn't lacking in formal education or accolades.

"How are you rebuilding your identity, Brittany?"

"I'm doing some volunteer work and going to various events at coffee shops and book stores. Of course I'm looking for work, too. I go running most days and I've joined a support group for women who struggle with depression."

"Excellent, that's really important for you right now. Make sure you put your mental health first. I think that's going to be something very important for us to discuss here."

"I have my own therapist for that, but thanks. We're here to talk about our relationship, not me," Brittany redirected.

"Okay, but it's important that Santana really understand that your leaving wasn't about her. Whatever resentment she harbors for you is really about the depression, not _you_, per say."

Santana started to warm to Dr. Murphey a bit. She had an excellent point; if Brittany had been able to think clearly through her depression, she wouldn't have left. She decided to give Dr. Murphey the benefit of the doubt.

"I think that's really what us coming here is about," Santana acknowledged. "Because in the logical part of my brain, I totally understand that Brittany is a victim too. But then there's the fearful part of me that just takes over sometimes."

"That's understandable," Dr. Murphey gave Santana a stiff nod. "We'll talk about that in a minute, Santana. Brittany, when you _do_ spend time on your relationship with Santana, what do you do?"

"Well, we've been doing a weekly check-in with each other, just to see how things are going and if there's anything we want to talk about."

"Okay. But now you're in therapy, so you can do that here."

"But I like having time to talk with just Brittany," Santana interjected.

"Just a minute, Santana," Dr. Murphey hushed. "What else do you do together, Brittany?"

"We used to go on weekly dates."

"And did you have sex after your dates?" Dr. Murphey asked.

"Yeah," Brittany nodded, her tone casual. "Usually. Throughout the week too."

"And now?"

Brittany shook her head.

"Is that true, Santana?"

Santana nodded, slightly ashamed, but honoring her promise to be honest. "When she tried I just felt really overwhelmed."

"Why?" Dr. Murphey asked.

Santana gave a shrug, still trying to hide her shame. "I just felt strange. Unsafe, I guess."

"Was Brittany unfaithful to you while she was gone?"

"No," Santana frowned, hackles rising as she crossed her arms.

Brittany's voice was vehement as she confirmed, "Definitely not."

"Do you still desire each other?"

"Yeah," Santana said, looking wistfully at Brittany. "Of course. I love her and she's beautiful."

Brittany met her gaze with a sad smile.

"Brittany?"

"Definitely. Our sex life was awesome until I got depressed."

"Okay, here's what I suggest." Dr. Murphey said immediately, crossing her legs and shifting in her seat. "Plan a night to start being intimate again. Pick a date you agree on. That will give Santana an opportunity to prepare for your reconnection."

Santana contemplated this proposition for a moment. "Don't you think that's a little strange? To pick an arbitrary date when I'll be ready to have sex?"

Dr. Murphey shook her head. "Rekindling the passion in your relationship will require big efforts on both your parts. This is _your_ contribution. Brittany's contribution is her work on herself."

"Um… ok," Santana frowned. She wasn't feeling any more secure in their relationship than before, and she needed some control. "Can I be in charge of planning it, though? Like, the details?"

"Brittany? Is that okay with you?" Dr. Murphey said. She was authoritative and stiff.

"Sure. You're in charge, S." She gave Santana a tiny smile.

"Do you have a date in mind, Santana?" Dr. Murphey continued.

"Um… well how about this weekend?" Santana shrugged. "Our regular date night?"

"Okay," Brittany nodded.

"Excellent communication, ladies. I think we're really making progress here."

Santana couldn't help but think this was just a superficial, facilitated interaction with Brittany, but if Dr. Murphey thought it was progress, she supposed that was a good thing. Dr. Murphey had a PhD, after all.

* * *

><p>Brittany fidgeted in the passenger's seat as they drove into downtown New Haven. "So where are you taking me?" she asked.<p>

"A restaurant," Santana replied vaguely.

"Have I been there before?"

"I don't think so," Santana shook her head, eyes on the road.

A few minutes later Santana pulled up to one of the more upscale hotels in town. "I'm taking you to the restaurant at Hotel Omni," she said with a coy smile.

"Oh, I've heard about this place!" Brittany exclaimed. "They're supposed to be famous for their desserts."

"That's why I picked it," Santana grinned.

A few minutes later they were seated at their table. They looked over the menu in silence. Even after she had decided what to order, Santana held the menu up, reading the descriptions of the other dishes. She flicked the corner of the wine list with her thumb.

"Are you going to get a glass of wine?" Brittany asked, face still obscured by the menu.

"I was thinking about it, yeah," Santana mused. Maybe it would help take some of the pressure off the evening.

"Should we split a bottle?"

"Were you thinking red or white?"

"White."

"I was going to have red, so let's just each get a glass."

"Okay, sounds good," Brittany shrugged.

Santana set down her menu and jiggled her foot under the table, looking around the restaurant. She couldn't stop focusing on what was supposed to happen after dinner. Of course she _wanted_ to have sex with Brittany and to feel like things were finally getting back to normal, but she wasn't sure it would be that simple.

* * *

><p>Brittany fidgeted with her hands and smiled anxiously as Santana slipped the access key in the door and held it open. Inside, the hotel room was filled with candles. A dozen roses sat on a table next to a bottle of nice champagne on ice. Two bathrobes were draped over a chair.<p>

Brittany exhaled in a soft _oh_ as she walked into the room. "You recreated our first time," she smiled. "Well, the one that counted. It's _perfect_, S."

"Glad you like it," Santana said, feeling her cheeks warm. She stood in the entryway, surveying the room.

Brittany set down her purse and took off her shoes. She sat on the edge of the bed and wiggled her toes as she looked around the room. "So… do you want to take a bath together first or something?" she asked,

"That could be good," Santana shrugged. "We don't have to though."

"Okay," Brittany said.

Santana hovered in the entryway, pulling her hair over one shoulder and twisting it around her finger. The glass of wine at dinner had done nothing for her nerves. She leaned against the wall, looking at Brittany with a timid smile.

"C'mere," Brittany gestured with her head.

Santana inhaled and walked to the bed, sitting a few inches away.

"So how did it start that time?" Brittany murmured. "Do you remember?"

"Of course," Santana gave her shy smile. "Do you?"

"Mm hm," Brittany nodded. "First there was a lot of talking about feelings and crying and hugging."

"I vote we skip the crying," Santana said.

"Me too," Brittany agreed. "But maybe not skip the talking about feelings?"

"No, that would just be _terrible_," Santana rolled her eyes.

Brittany paused. "How _are_ you feeling, Santana?"

Santana shrugged. "Fine."

"Except… your eyes are doing that back and forth thing and you've been chewing your lip all night."

Santana let her lip slip out from between her teeth. "I guess I'm kind of nervous," she admitted. Again, it was hard to say out loud.

"Me too," Brittany murmured.

They sat quietly for a minute.

Santana turned to Brittany. "It doesn't have to be a big deal though, right? I mean, we've had sex like a million times before. Probably more than a million."

"Yeah," Brittany nodded.

They sat quietly for another moment.

"Do you want to get under the covers?" Brittany suggested.

"Sure," Santana replied. They stood up and began walking to opposite sides of the bed, pausing when they realized they were still fully clothed

"Do we get undressed, or…" Brittany asked.

"How about just our underwear?" It would be more difficult to take off an entire outfit under the sheets, but underwear was manageable. And Santana wasn't ready to be naked in front of Brittany. Not yet.

Santana looked down at her own body to avoid looking at Brittany as she removed her dress. In her peripheral vision she could see Brittany was doing the same. She took off her earrings and glanced up with a nervous smile as she set them on the bedside table. Brittany was wearing Santana's favorite blue lingerie as she pulled back the comforter and slid under it. Santana, wearing Brittany's favorite black lingerie, followed.

They lay on their sides, eyes dancing over each other's faces in nervous anticipation. Without saying anything, Santana placed her hand on Brittany's neck and lifted her head to kiss her.

"I love you," Santana murmured between uncertain kisses.

"I love you, too," Brittany whispered against Santana's cheek. She put her arm around Santana's waist, gently pulling Santana an inch closer.

Santana responded to Brittany's touch by scooting even closer, until she was pressed flush against her. After a moment she rolled Brittany onto her back and lay on top of her, moving her legs to straddle her. Her hands braced against the pillow on either side of Brittany's head. Brittany's hand was resting on the small of Santana's back, not pressing or moving in the slightest. Both women kept their eyes shut tight.

When their lips were sliding together with more confidence, Santana tentatively slid one hand from the pillow onto Brittany's shoulder. Brittany's fingers pressed ever so slightly onto Santana's back, though her other hand remained motionless on the sheet by her side. Santana kissed along Brittany's jaw, making a conscious line from her lips to the spot below her ear. As Santana's mouth moved to the left, her hand slid down Brittany's shoulder until it was resting on her covered breast.

Santana felt a shiver as she sucked gently on the sweet spot of Brittany's neck. Brittany made a little noise in the back of her throat as she exhaled, but lay still. Santana grasped Brittany's breast a little more firmly as she increased the suction on Brittany's neck. Brittany moved her hands to cup Santana's ass.

Santana wriggled at the touch and scooted up an inch in her straddle. She arched her back a little as she attached her lips to Brittany's neck again. This didn't feel like sex usually did with Brittany. This was scripted and lacked emotion. Nevertheless she kept going.

"You good?" she breathed against Brittany's neck.

Brittany paused for a moment before answering. "Yeah," she said curtly.

Santana kept kissing Brittany's neck, making little noises with her lips every time she lifted them to reattach them half an inch away. The wet noises were reassuring; this was supposed to be sexy, right? She began squeezing and groping Brittany's breast with fluid waves of her fingers.

Brittany tilted her head to find Santana's lips again. When she did, she slid her tongue into Santana's mouth and gave Santana's ass a firm squeeze.

Santana trembled and broke away, exhaling with a hint of panic. She wanted to do this, but she felt she had to think about and force every movement. It felt disjointed and insincere. She never wanted to be insincere with Brittany.

"Britt, wait."

Brittany released her hold on Santana's ass as Santana pushed her torso up and looked at the headboard. Santana wanted to be intimate with Brittany _so badly_, but not if it felt like this.

"I want to, it's just…" Santana's shoulders drooped in frustration. "This seems _so_ forced. There's a lot of - I don't know…" she stammered.

"Feelings we're not talking about?" Brittany offered.

"Yeah," Santana sighed, looking back down at Brittany. She felt guilty and almost regretted stopping.

"Well... how about we have feelings sex instead?"

"Feelings sex?" Santana wrinkled her brow.

"Yeah." Brittany nodded. Her expression was warm and calm.

Santana rolled off Brittany and lay on her side. "What's 'feelings sex'?"

Brittany turned onto her side to face Santana and her voice dropped to a low hum. "It's where I look you in the eye and tell you ten things I love about you, and you just look at me and listen."

"And then I tell you ten things?" Santana asked.

"Not tonight." Brittany shook her head. "You just listen."

Santana thought Brittany's whole face glowed. "Okay," she smiled, feeling shy. She tucked her hands under her cheek and nestled into the pillow. Brittany's gaze was so intense she almost wanted to look away.

"Ready?" Brittany's eyebrows lifted briefly.

"Ready," Santana hummed.

"I love you, Santana Lopez, because you know me better than anyone else in the world. You know what every sigh and eye movement means, and you know that sometimes I mismatch my clothes because I feel uneven on the inside that day."

Santana grinned.

"I love you, Santana Lopez, because you ground me. You are practical and realistic and yet still gentle and romantic. Without you, I feel like I'm just drifting. I need that pull, that tug from you to make sure I always land back home," she said, patting the pillow to indicate where 'home' was.

Santana kept smiling, yet it was more timid now.

"I love you, Santana Lopez, because you always make me feel like I'm smart and funny."

"You _are_ smart and funny, Britt," Santana argued gently.

"Shh, just listen," Brittany reminded her with a soft grin. "You understand my jokes when other people don't. You know I don't live in my own little world and you're always kind when you ask me to explain what I meant when you don't understand."

Santana's eyes sparkled as she watched Brittany's dart from one to the other.

"I love you, Santana Lopez, because you're stubborn as hell and you don't give up on me or us or anything else you believe in. You're feisty and loyal to the death. Some people don't know it, but you're also unbelievably sweet."

Santana's eyes flickered back and forth between Brittany's eyes and lips, watching the way they moved, knowing there was no way Brittany could be feigning sincerity.

"I love you, Santana Lopez, because I always feel like you are proud to be with me. You'll hold my hand in public - even in grumpy old New Haven - and sometimes the way you walk when you're next to me seems like you're saying 'yup, she's mine,' in this really sassy, confident way. It's not possessive, just proud. I love that."

Santana grinned, her eyes going soft like they did only for Brittany. She slid her hand out from under her head and rested it on the sheet between them, palm up. Brittany placed her hand in it, clasping it tightly.

"I love you, Santana Lopez, because sometimes you get protective of me, which is sweet, but more than anything I feel respected by you, which is so much more important. You really are an equal partner, and you never try to control me or tell me what's best for either one of us."

Santana bit her lip to keep from responding out loud.

"I love you, Santana Lopez, because you have a special smile that's just for me. When I see it, I feel that groundedness, but I also feel excited because I know we can face anything together. That smile tells me you love me so completely and unconditionally, it breaks my heart to think of it ever going away. I think I'm the luckiest girl in the world because I get to see your soft side more than anyone else."

Santana felt a lump in her throat; Brittany was willingly laying all her cards on the table because she knew Santana needed to see them.

"I love you, Santana Lopez, because you've turned all that anger and fear you had in high school into this amazing, unstoppable energy that fueled you through college and law school, and it makes you one hell of a lawyer. I don't think anyone can imagine all the incredible things you're going to do now that you've harnessed that energy."

Hearing Brittany recognize her growth over the years put Santana on the verge of tears. Her throat tightened and her lips trembled as she whispered, "I love you, Britt," so quietly Brittany could barely hear it.

Brittany smiled and put a finger to her lips as she continued. "I love you, Santana Lopez, because you decided it was more important to be yourself than to please everyone around you. You came out even though it scared you to death and it hurt when people told you you'd never fit in. You'll always choose yourself, and I have so much respect for that."

"But I always choose you, too," Santana protested.

"But you also choose yourself. When I was gone you did what you needed to do to take care of yourself, rather than focusing solely on chasing me. That's what I would always want for you, to know that you can survive and eventually thrive no matter what happens. Because _I_ know you can, and I want you to believe it too. I'm not going anywhere," Brittany reassured, squeezing Santana's hand, "but I want you to know you can do amazing things alone if you have to."

Santana swallowed. "It's really hard not to say anything back," she murmured, giving Brittany a shaky smile.

"I know," Brittany grinned. She continued, "I love you, Santana Lopez, because you are a woman of integrity. You live honorably, you keep your promises, and even if you thought it would make me happy, you would never lie to me."

Santana's smile was pulled down at the corners by tears.

"I love you, Santana Lopez, because you have all these really big, intense feelings. Sometimes your feelings are _so_ big I wonder how they all fit inside your tiny body. When you let them out, they're so honest and real. You've grown _so_ much and you've developed all these gorgeous ways of talking about your feelings and expressing them so they don't overwhelm you. Sometimes they still do, and I think that's beautiful too. No matter what you're feeling, it's real and I think it's beautiful."

Santana sniffled as a tear slid across the bridge of her nose, gliding down the opposite cheek until it disappeared into the pillow.

"I love you, Santana Lopez, because you are resilient. You've lost so much; your family, your image, and at one point your belief that you would ever feel normal… and yet you're here, thriving, living an amazing life you created for yourself. Even when you're scared, you're a fighter. Right now looking at you, I can see you're trying _so_ _hard_ to trust me again and to grow even closer. And because it's _you_ trying, I know we will."

Santana was overwhelmed. Her throat was so tight she could barely croak out, "That's twelve."

"I know," Brittany murmured. "I didn't think ten was enough."

Santana whimpered as her throat closed with tears. She slid her head forward on the pillow, her lips pressing against Brittany's, trembling as she cried. She pulled away and tucked her head under Brittany's chin, shivering in the warmth she felt there.

Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana and whispered, "I want to be with you more than I want anything else." She held Santana for a long time, until she stopped shaking.

When Santana could breathe evenly again, she pulled her head back and wiped her cheek. "Dr. Murphey is an idiot," she gasped, rolling her eyes as she sniffled. "That was so much better than some stupid sex date."

Brittany nodded, tucking Santana's hair behind her ear.

Santana exhaled, her expression turning solemn again as she looked into Brittany's eyes. "I like feelings sex," she whispered.

"Me too," Brittany agreed. "It's more intimate than just getting naked."

Santana nodded, several fresh tears sliding down her face. "We'll have sex soon, Britt," she promised, trembling again.

"Whenever it feels right," Brittany hushed, holding Santana close again. "Not until then."


	46. In Time

**Chapter 46: In Time**

Chapter title song and **soundtrack**: "In Time" by Zero 7.

A/N: Thank you Mia for your mad Beta skills!

* * *

><p>"Hey, S, I'm gonna Skype my parents, come join!" Brittany called out from the living room a few days later.<p>

Santana finished washing the skillet in her hands and turned off the tap, reaching for a towel. "Um… I dunno, B. That seems weird," she replied.

"Why?"

Santana walked into the living room, wiping her hands. "Because I feel like they don't like me anymore."

"What? Sweetie, they _love_ you. When I was in Lima they kept begging me to call you and explain. They didn't want to keep you in the dark; they felt like they were choosing between two of their own kids. Come talk to them, they'll back me up."

"I still feel weird."

"Yeah, and you'll feel weird until you talk to them. Are you going to avoid them forever? C'mon, it'll be no big deal."

Santana let out a resigned sigh and came to sit next to Brittany, setting the towel on the coffee table. Brittany squished closer and placed her laptop across their legs.

The electronic dial tone buzzed as they waited for Gordon and Vickie to accept the incoming video chat. The Pierces answered, the image flickering a few times before the connection was steady. Santana could see they were seated on the couch in the familiar Pierce living room – the same room they'd sat in as they fed Santana ice cream cake on the day she came out to her parents.

"Santana!" the Pierces exclaimed immediately. "Hi!"

Brittany turned to Santana and whispered, "See?" before turning back to her parents. "Nice to see you _too_, mom and dad," she teased.

"Hi, Britt-Bee," Gordon grinned as Vickie cooed, "Hi, darlin'."

"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Pierce," Santana greeted, sheepish.

"Santana, I have known you since you were all _kinds_ of scrawny and awkward. I can't _believe_ you still call us Mr. and Mrs. Pierce. For the last time, it's Gordon and Vickie!" Vickie cried in mock exasperation.

"Okay. Hi, Gordon and Vickie," Santana said, stifled a giggle.

"See, that still sounds wrong, but I can't put my finger on it…" Gordon mused with a smirk.

Santana saw Vickie elbow him playfully in the ribs before turning back to the screen. "How _are_ you, Santana?" she asked. "How's the new job?"

"I'm good, work's great. Busy and fulfilling."

"Is Brittany behaving herself?" Gordon teased.

"Of course. She's reminding me of _my_ manners, actually," Santana smiled, glancing at Brittany.

"Is she taking her medication?" Vickie asked, lowering her voice a bit.

Brittany rolled her eyes. "Mom, I'm right here."

"I just want to make sure!" Vickie defended.

Santana replied, "As far as I know, yeah. She seems happy."

"If anything changes with our Britt-Bee, will you _please_ call us?" Gordon implored.

Santana lowered her voice and turned to Brittany, "Is that okay with you?" She didn't want to treat Brittany like a child.

"Yeah," Brittany nodded, giving her a reassuring smile.

Santana turned back to the images of Vickie and Gordon on the screen, her voice returning to full volume. "Of course."

"We want our girl happy and we want her with the woman she loves, ya hear?" Vickie said, sounding more southern than usual.

"Okay," Santana smiled. "Hey, how's Hayley? She's leaving for college soon, isn't she?"

"She's a bundle of nerves," Gordon sighed, shaking his head. "She's starting college next week and she's _so_ pent up about it. Brittany was relaxed and just took it in stride – she's more like Vickie and me in that sense – but Hayley is something else."

"Actually, Santana," Vickie chimed in, "you're kind of like Hayley – you both set your goals high and work yourself to the ground achieving them. She's already thinking about what comes after college. Is there _any_ way we can get her to relax?"

"Probably not," Santana chuckled. "But have her Skype me and Britt and we'll remind her she's supposed to have _fun_ in college. Britt had to remind me all the time. She's going to Wesleyan, right?"

Vickie and Gordon nodded.

"Isn't that near us?"

The Pierces nodded again.

"Yeah, Middletown's not even an hour away from New Haven," Brittany reassured her parents. "We'll check in on her from time to time. And if she really gets worked up we'll kidnap her and force her to stop studying for a day or two."

"Good, good," Gordon clucked. "You know, she's always looked up to you, Santana. It would mean a lot if she got to spend time with you."

"Aw, well I'd be happy to, now that I have a some free time after work."

All three of the Pierces beamed at Santana for moment.

"It's good to have you back, Santana," Vickie said gently.

Gordon bobbed his head in agreement, adding, "We missed you _so_ much."

Santana gave them a sheepish grin and reached for Brittany's hand, squeezing it.

"It's good to be back."

* * *

><p>"Happy birthday, old lady!" Santana sang into the phone a few days later. "I got you some knitting needles and a cat."<p>

"Thanks, just what I wanted for my thirtieth," Elinor deadpanned.

"How are you holding up, babe?" Santana softened, hearing Elinor's snarky – meaning unhappy – voice.

"Ugh, fine," she sighed. "No… actually, not fine."

"Talk to me," Santana invited.

"I just feel so dumb. I mean, _why_ did I move here? Jordan hasn't changed. She's _just_ like she was in college. She knows how to charm the pants off people. I can't believe I fell for it again."

"You gotta watch out for those snakes in the grass, El. I'm sorry it didn't work out."

"Yeah, but you're a little bit satisfied that you were right all along."

Santana could hear the smirk in Elinor's voice. "Eh, maybe a little," she grinned before softening. "But I never wanted you to get hurt."

"Whatever, I'll live… Hey, how are you? You sound good, like things are looking up, maybe? I haven't heard anything from you in a while. In fact… the last I heard from you, you left me a voicemail on your way to Boston to celebrate passing the Bar with your college friends. And I didn't call you back because I'm a shitty friend and I was wrapped up in my own drama. What's new since then?"

"Oh my god, I can't _believe_ I didn't tell you!"

"Tell me what?"

"She's back!"

"She _is_? Oh, thank _God_!" Elinor exclaimed. "I was starting to doubt true love existed. When? How? Tell me _everything_!"

Santana's face stretched tight as she smiled and launched into the story of returning from Boston to find Brittany on the couch and the conversation that followed. She kept the details of Brittany's side of the story vague; while Brittany was generally a very open person, Santana knew that mental health was a sensitive subject.

"So wait, what was her deal? I mean, why'd she just _leave_?"

"You should call her and ask. It's complicated, but I'm sure she'll tell you. I just want it to come from her, you know?"

"Okay, I definitely will. I'm so curious. So how's it been? Did things just click back into place?"

"Well… it's up and down. It's been kind of awkward at times. Britt's such a champ, though. She's so patient with me and my silly trust issues."

"They're not 'silly trust issues,' Santana. She left you and it fucking _hurt_. I wouldn't trust anyone who did that to me right away, no matter _how_ much I loved them."

"But isn't that what you did? Just went back to what it was?"

"Yeah, and how did _that_ work out, huh?" Elinor scoffed. "That was the idea, but it never works that way. Jordan didn't understand why I couldn't just step right in and go with the flow. She was really impatient."

"Britt's the opposite. She's encouraging me to talk about it, which I guess is nice, but sometimes it's too much. We saw a therapist and I think that made it worse."

"Really?"

"Yeah, this woman was totally cold and thought she knew everything. I'm sure she knows a lot, but none of it applied to us. Britt wants to try a different therapist, but I really don't want to."

"Why not? I mean, hell, if Jordan had suggested therapy I would have jumped at the chance."

"I just don't see how someone outside the relationship can fix it."

"Was the therapy bad because of the therapist, or because therapy isn't the solution?"

"I've had one session, how the hell would I know?"

"Good point… but why not give it one more shot? I mean, you and Britt have a good sense of what works for you, but sometimes other people have great ideas."

"I thought so too, but the last therapist sent us on a mission destined to fail."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

There was a pause.

"Are you going to go into more detail or just be mysterious about it?" Elinor teased.

Although Elinor was one of her best friends, Santana relied heavily on vagueness and euphemisms when talking about sex. Elinor was the only other woman she'd been with, after all, even if it was almost a decade ago. Talking about sex was the only weird part of their friendship.

"Well… Dr. Murphey decided that we needed to go back to our old bedtime routine too soon."

"Ah. Did Britt have an opinion about it?"

"If she did, she didn't share," Santana shrugged. "But she came up with an amazing alternative when I freaked out."

"Am I allowed to ask what the alternative was?"

"Basically just pillow talk. Fluffy stuff. She called it 'feelings sex.'"

"Aw, s_o_ Brittany."

"Yeah. It actually made me cry."

"Santana, you are _such_ a sap."

"It was really sweet, _okay_?" Santana defended with a smile.

"Okay, okay…" Elinor grinned. "I'm glad you guys are figuring things out."

"Yeah, we are… I don't know if therapy's the way to go, though. Britt asked around and got the name of someone she says will be much better, but I don't know."

"Santana, just _go_. Give it one more try. If it's awful, you don't have to go back, and you certainly don't have to try any suggestions that don't seem like they'll work. I've seen a couple of different therapists over the years, and it was kind of hit or miss. But overall it was good. Therapy isn't magic, but it _can_ be really helpful."

Santana sighed. She was impatient to reestablish trust with Brittany, and if Elinor thought therapy was a good idea too, she might as well try it. "I guess you're right. I'll go. Thanks for listening. And Happy Birthday!"

"Thanks. And no problem, S."

* * *

><p>Two weeks later in mid-August, Brittany and Santana were sitting next to each other on a large, plush couch with their hands in their laps. Dr. Anastos – Carmine, rather, as he insisted on being called by his first name - couldn't have been more different than Dr. Murphey. He was a solemn, Mediterranean man whose every motion was intentional, yet he remained relaxed and infinitely gentler than Dr. Murphey.<p>

"Brittany," he said in his steady, soft voice, "I've talked to you about what you're trying to accomplish with therapy; reconnecting after some time apart. But I want to establish with both of you why you're here. Do you have anything to add to what we spoke about on the phone?"

Brittany bumped her knee against Santana's as she began speaking. "Well… I know Santana's trying really hard to trust me again, so I guess I wanted to make sure she felt she had support and a safe space to talk about it."

"So why not have Santana go to therapy by herself?" Carmine challenged gently.

Brittany shrugged. "I guess there's more to it than that," Brittany admitted. "Therapy was really helpful for me, and I just want to try anything that might help us build back to where we were and beyond. I want her to see how committed I am to making this work."

"Do you think she can see you're committed?" Carmine prodded.

Brittany glanced at Santana. "I don't know."

"Is there a communication issue you want to explore?" Carmine asked. He was kind, but certainly to-the-point.

Brittany looked back at Santana before answering, "No… I think we've been doing pretty well with that. We set aside time every week to check in."

Santana sat looking around at the walls: there were no framed diplomas or awards, only a few abstract paintings and a small photograph of a Greek village. She was still dubious about therapy. Even though Carmine seemed like a gentle soul, she wasn't sure anyone would be able to help them, which made her sad; she wanted to reconnect with Brittany _so_ badly, and the fact that she couldn't made her feel lost and ashamed. She probably wouldn't have come to therapy at all if Brittany hadn't begged her to give it a second chance and Elinor hadn't given her an extra nudge.

Carmine shifted his focus to Santana. "Santana, how are you doing?"

Santana shrugged. "Fine."

"I'm getting a sense that you're a little apprehensive about being here today. Am I reading that right?"

Santana nodded.

"That's understandable. It can feel… _inorganic_ to come in and start talking about vulnerable parts of your life with someone you've only just met. So I'm curious; what was it that made you give Brittany the 'okay' pick up the phone and call me?"

Santana softened and glanced at Brittany. "Well she was really apologetic about our last therapist, even though it wasn't her fault. She said you came highly recommended. I know she wants things to get better, and I _do_ see how committed she is to making our relationship work... so I figured I'd give therapy another shot."

"What happened with the last therapist?"

"The session was just really tense and the advice we got wasn't helpful."

"What was the advice you got?" Carmine prodded.

Santana glanced at Brittany before looking back at Carmine. "She told us to set a date when we planned to start having sex again."

"I'm sorry, she did what?" Carmine asked, a trace of astonishment on his otherwise expressionless face.

"She told us to plan a date to start being intimate again so we could prepare emotionally for it. But it didn't really work."

"That's because it's a ridiculous suggestion," Carmine deadpanned. "Sex is a reflection of the connection, not a landmark or a goal."

"Well, sometimes there's a goal," Brittany winked at Santana.

"Humor is a good tool, Brittany," Carmine interjected, "but in the therapy room, I find it's used as to deflect away from the issue rather than focus on what the client wants to accomplish."

His tone was tender, but Santana was stunned, and from the look on Brittany's face, Brittany was stunned too. No one had ever called her out on using humor to deflect before.

Santana tried to soothe Brittany by redirecting the conversation. "I guess I agreed to come here because we want another opinion about how to approach intimacy."

"Well, what we're really talking about here isn't about sex, it's about rebuilding the emotional safety in your relationship," Carmine stated.

Santana was surprised. "Yes," she responded, "that's exactly it."

"So it sounds like in order for that to happen, sex has to be off the table for a while."

"Totally off the table?" Brittany asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yes," Carmine nodded.

"Oh…" Brittany looked away, dejected.

"Maybe not out of the picture entirely, though," Carmine amended. "Perhaps under the table."

Santana bit her lip to suppress a smile; Carmine, in all his humorless wisdom, had unwittingly made an innuendo.

"Do you have a special ritual as a couple that doesn't involve sex?" Carmine asked, an eyebrow lifting a fraction of an inch toward the ceiling.

"Well sometimes we have sex afterwards, but we go on dates every Saturday night," Brittany answered. "The point is to spend time together not stressing about work or school or money. Sometimes we do something fancy and sometimes we do something silly, and we try not to do the same thing two weeks in a row; last weekend we went to get ice cream and waffles downtown, and the weekend before that we had dinner at Hotel Omni."

"Was that the night you had planned to have sex, at your previous therapist's suggestion?"

Brittany and Santana nodded.

"Santana rented a room and set it up just like the one we were in when we first got together. It was really romantic." Brittany gave Santana a fleeting, sheepish grin.

"But it still didn't work," Santana muttered.

"I'm curious as to why your physical relationship was the first thing you mentioned, Santana. Can you say a little more?"

"Well…" Santana sighed, placing her hand on the couch where it just brushed against Brittany's thigh. "Sex has always been a special part of our relationship. We haven't been with anyone else since we were teenagers, so I don't really know, but I get the sense that most other couples don't have the connection we have over it. It's our way of checking in. It's how we express a lot of things to each other."

"You communicate through touch," Carmine summarized, nodding his head once. "That's why it's so frustrating and perhaps frightening that you're not having sex right now."

"Exactly!" Santana gasped. She was surprised that a man could understand the subtleties of their relationship so quickly. She decided she liked Carmine.

"How is your verbal communication?" Carmine asked. "You said you sit down and talk once a week about your relationship. How does that usually go?"

Santana looked at Brittany, encouraging her speak first.

Brittany cleared her throat. "It goes pretty well."

"Do you ever argue during those conversations?" Carmine asked, placing his elbow on his armrest and bringing his finger to his chin.

"No," Brittany and Santana said in unison.

Brittany elaborated. "We're trying to understand each other better, so when something doesn't feel right we want to figure out _why_. For a while Santana wasn't sharing how she felt because she was scared of hurting my feelings. She thought if she said the wrong thing I would get depressed again. But I told her not to do that anymore and she's been really making an effort to be honest. So I feel pretty good about it."

"Santana?" Carmine asked.

"Yeah," Santana nodded, looking between Brittany and Carmine. "We do well with our check-ins. I do tend to withhold more, but I'm pushing myself to talk about the things I avoid. Britt's so good at reading my body language and knowing when I'm not telling the whole story, she encourages me to talk more openly."

There was a moment of silence as Carmine pondered. "Brittany, when did you come back to New Haven?" he asked.

"About three weeks ago."

"And how long were you gone?"

"Four months."

Carmine nodded, his expression pensive. He paused for a moment before asking, "How are you feeling about being back?"

"Good." Brittany's tone was tentative as she shrugged.

Carmine let her sit for another moment. When he spoke, he asked a question that startled her. "Are _you_ feeling any hurt from the separation?"

Brittany fidgeted, avoiding Santana's gaze. "Um.. No, why would I?"

"You seem very focused on Santana and her feelings and I'm wondering if some of your _own_ feelings are going unacknowledged."

"Well… I left _her_, so she has every right to be hurt and I want to fix it, so I know we have to talk about that..." Brittany trailed off and her fidgeting became more urgent.

"Yes, but that's not what I'm asking about."

Brittany clamped her hands together tightly in her lap to stop herself from squirming. "I mean… well… yeah. I guess- I guess I _am_ feeling hurt." Her shoulders drooped and she hunched over.

Carmine nodded. "Do you think maybe coming to therapy was a way for you to talk about that with Santana?"

Brittany's hands relaxed, though her gaze didn't leave her lap. "Yeah. I guess I don't feel like I can tell Santana she hurt me because I know I hurt her more."

Santana looked at Brittany in surprise; for all Brittany's efforts to get _her_ to talk openly, it was a shock to see Brittany being as evasive as she was. She turned slightly toward her.

"That was brave, Brittany," Carmine murmured. "Santana, how was that to hear?"

"I- I guess I'm just surprised she actually said it," Santana stammered. "I think- I think she felt like I abandoned her. But she never said anything."

"Is that how you felt, Brittany?" Carmine searched.

Brittany hesitated, then nodded, still looking at her hands. Santana's chest sank, finally seeing Brittany's reassuring exterior crumble.

"Britt, you can tell me I hurt you," she murmured, looking tenderly at Brittany's downcast face. "I know I wasn't perfect."

Brittany turned her head to look at Santana, her expression more pained and guilty than Santana had ever seen.

Santana brushed her fingers along the side of Brittany's thigh. "I want to talk about that part too; how I can be more supportive and attentive to _you_, not just things we can work on together."

Carmine watched as Brittany and Santana gazed at each other, acknowledging their deepest hurt and watching as the other received it with utmost gentleness. Brittany gingerly placed her hand on top of Santana's.

"How would it be to talk about this mutual hurt on Sunday nights?" Carmine asked.

Santana didn't break their gaze as she responded. "Well now that it's out in the open, I think- I think we could do it." She turned her wrist so her palm faced upwards beneath Brittany's. Brittany interlocked their fingers in a firm clasp.

Carmine let a gentle smile grace his lips as he witnessed their handclasp. "I've seen some couples who've been married for thirty years who could learn a lot from you two."

"Really?" Santana asked, turning to him. She was surprised to hear their relationship could be used as a positive example for _anything_ at the moment.

Carmine nodded. His voice was barely a murmur as he mirrored the tenderness between the women before him. "I can tell by the way you two are sitting - slightly turned toward each other - and the way you let each other take turns talking that you are very tuned in to each other. You're open to hearing what the other has to say. I'm guessing it's rare that either of you gets defensive."

"We don't," Brittany agreed, still looking at Santana. "We don't always agree, but we never get hostile."

"I get defensive more than she does," Santana acknowledged, "but that's more of a personality difference. And eventually I calm down and hear what she was actually saying." Her words were for Carmine, but she looked at Brittany.

"That's good insight," Carmine nodded. The three of them sat in silence for about ten seconds, which seemed excruciatingly long to Santana.

"Here's my prescription," Carmine finally said, lifting his arms a few inches off the armrests before setting them back down on the wood with a muted slapping noise. "Aside from your Sunday night conversations, go out on your regular dates. Enjoy each other's company. Have _fun_. And then go home and just go to bed. Don't make sex part of the plan. I'm not saying don't think about sex, because that's like saying 'don't think about the color blue;' it becomes an obsession if you do that. Just focus on enjoying each other, because you clearly do." He raised his arm and gestured to their hands that were still clasped between them.

"Okay," Brittany said, giving Santana a shy grin.

Santana nodded in agreement, squeezing Brittany's hand. "Do we come back next week?"

"Let's give it some time. Check back in a few weeks if you'd like to continue with our sessions," Carmine said.

* * *

><p>Two weeks later, Birttany and Santana were seated at a little table in the corner of a Swiss Fondue restaurant. "I can't believe I didn't know about this place before," Brittany remarked, dipping a piece of broccoli into the pot.<p>

"Well, it's kind of a hole-in-the-wall, but those places usually have the best food," Santana said, her mouth full of bread and melted cheese.

Brittany nodded as she put the broccoli into her mouth, exhaling a bit when she realized how hot the cheese was. She chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. "Yum," she declared.

"So how's the volunteer thing going?" Santana asked.

"It's fantastic," Brittany remarked, spearing a piece of bread with her fork. "Intense, but I love it."

"You love intense things," Santana winked, dipping a potato into the cheese.

"You would know," Brittany grinned back. "We had a group of women who had been trafficked come talk to us at our training on Thursday. It was so heartbreaking but totally fascinating."

"Wow. I don't think I could handle _that_ kind of intense," Santana replied, shaking her head.

"You could," Brittany assured. "They're regular people, they've just had really bad things happen to them."

"How much longer until you start working on the hotline?" Santana asked.

"Just two weeks," Brittany smiled. "We've only got four more trainings. I'm really looking forward to next week – we're going to have a prostitute come talk to us."

"Seriously?" Santana exclaimed, eyebrows rising. "Why?"

Brittany frowned. "Prostitutes can get raped too. And then people always blame _them_. It's so sad... I'm really curious to hear what she has to say."

"I guess you're right... I would be curious too."

"How's work?" Brittany asked as she picked up a carrot and dipped it in the cheese.

"It's going well. I've only been there for a few months, but since I interned for two summers I feel pretty competent already. And that guy who kept hitting on me has backed off."

"Did you threaten to kick him where it hurts?" Brittany smirked.

Santana grinned. "No, I just kept bragging about my amazing, hot girlfriend and he got the message."

Brittany giggled. "Glad to be of service."

"Hey, have you talked to Elinor?" Santana wondered aloud.

"Yeah, briefly. She said she has a new place to live and a lead on a new job."

Santana frowned. "I thought she already had a job at Walters & Associates."

Brittany shrugged. "She was pretty vague about it. Mostly she just asked me questions about my recovery and how we were doing. She didn't talk much. I think she's embarrassed about what happened with Jordan."

Santana grimaced. "Yeah, I knew something was going to go wrong with that whole situation. Jordan just rubs me the wrong way."

"Have you met her?" Brittany asked.

"No, but I saw her once, the summer before senior year at McKinley. She just… I don't know, I just don't think she ever cared for Elinor the way Elinor cares for her."

"Hmm. Did Elinor ever tell you why she just dropped everything for her?"

"I think Jordan appealed to the 'helper' part of Elinor. You know, the side that wants to take care of other people. That tendency always screws her over."

Brittany frowned. "But I like taking care of people and it doesn't screw me over."

"That's true, but you're different… maybe helper is the wrong word… Elinor is… she's a _rescuer_. She took on so much pro-bono work when she was at Kelley & Fischer, she totally overextended herself. She'll drop everything for someone without being asked, and people take advantage of it. That's different than helping."

"That's true," Brittany agreed. "She definitely does rescue people. And thank goodness, right?" she winked, alluding to how Elinor had rescued Santana in the months before.

Santana nodded in admission. "Thank goodness."

When they were done with their meal, Santana paid the bill. Brittany held the door for her as they walked out.

"That was great. Good choice, babe."

"You are very welcome. Ready to go home?" Santana asked, offering Brittany her arm.

"Not yet," Brittany said as she linked her arm through Santana's. "It's a nice night. Want to go for a walk?"

"Sure," Santana cheered.

They walked a few blocks until they came to a park. In the center of the park Santana could see a fountain, just about a six inches deep. "Race ya!" she grinned.

"To where?"

Santana was already darting off toward the fountain. As she reached the edge, she flicked off her shoes and jumped in. As her feet hit the smooth bottom of the fountain, chills ran up her legs to her spine, tingling and making her giggle. It was only up to her ankles, but Brittany couldn't help but laugh; this was a rare, frivolous move on Santana's part.

"Get in, Britt!" Santana called.

Brittany walked up to the fountain and shook her head, laughing.

"Come on!" Santana cheered. She felt wishing pennies beneath her feet as she bent and swung her hand through the water, sending droplets flying out at Brittany. Brittany flinched away from the spray, holding up her hands and smiling.

"Only if you promise not to dunk me!" Brittany said, trying to sound serious. She pointed her finger at Santana in warning.

"It's not deep enough to dunk," Santana rolled her eyes. "C'mon." She offered her wet hand to Brittany.

Brittany hesitated, giving Santana a doubtful look, as if she was certain Santana would immediately wrestle her down into the water and they'd have to walk back to their car with their shoes sloshing as they dripped along the sidewalk.

"I promise not to dunk you," Santana sighed, rolling her eyes again.

Brittany bent to take off her shoes, then took Santana's hand and stepped over the ledge. "It's cold!" she squeaked when her foot touched the water.

"It's nice," Santana shrugged, tugging Brittany's hand to encourage her to step all the way in.

Brittany hopped in and gave an exaggerated shiver. Santana pulled her close, wrapping her arms around Brittany's waist. "I'll keep you warm," she purred, looking up at her.

Brittany looked down at her, her smile shifting from playful to adoring. "Then I'll stay in here all night," she murmured.

Santana's smile softened. She looked into Brittany's eyes for a moment before stretching up to kiss her. Their kiss was confident and slow. Their hands remained on the small of each other's backs, reassuring and still. Little droplets splattered from the fountain and fell on their bare arms and legs as their tongues rolled together in smooth waves. The water around their feet mirrored the wetness of their mouths, and the noise of the fountain echoed the calm rushing through them. They stood kissing in the fountain for ages.

Santana began to shiver; Brittany was right, the water was a bit too chilly. She broke away, letting the quivering course through her. "Okay, I guess it _is_ cold," she admitted, giving Brittany a shaky smile. "Ready to go home?"

Brittany nodded and led Santana out of the fountain, helping her step daintily over the edge.

They went home and got ready for bed, making sure to put on thick socks to warm their icy feet. They grinned at each other in the mirror as they brushed their teeth. Brittany waited for Santana to spit first, then they rinsed their mouths at the same time. They got into bed and snuggled into the blankets.

After a brief but warm goodnight kiss, they smiled at each other.

"I had a really good time with you tonight," Santana murmured.

"Me too," Brittany replied. "I felt warm all over. Even in the freezing fountain."

"Yeah. Me too."

They gazed at each other for another long moment. Santana inhaled and darted her lips forward to peck Brittany's cheek. "Good night!" she chirped.

"Good night," Brittany echoed.

Their grins widened for a fleeting moment before they rolled onto their separate sides. Santana turned off the light, still smiling into the dark. She felt calm and warm from her head to her feet as she snuggled deeper into the bed and fell fast asleep.


	47. Love Me Like a River Does

**Chapter 47: Love Me Like A River Does**

Chapter title song and **soundtrack**: "Love Me Like a River Does" by Melody Gardot. Listen, it's gorgeous.

**A/N: Thank you to my wonderful Beta for this chapter, terriblemuriel.**

* * *

><p>Santana woke a few hours later. She wasn't panicking as if she had been startled by a dream, but she wasn't groggy either. It was the oddest sensation; she was just <em>awake<em>, as if she had decided to get in bed in the middle of the day with no intention of sleeping. She looked around the dark room, wondering why she had woken up.

After a few minutes she heard Brittany stirring on the other side of the bed. "Britt?" she whispered into the dark.

"Yeah?"

Santana paused. The rustling of the sheets and creaking mattress springs seemed extra loud as she rolled onto her back. "I had fun tonight."

"Me too," Brittany's whisper sounded off the opposite wall.

Santana waited until the last echoes died before continuing. "It felt like back in college when we would go to the dining hall all dressed up and pretend we were in a fancy restaurant," she smiled into the dark.

Brittany rolled toward Santana. "It did." Santana could hear she was smiling too.

Santana reached up and felt through the dark for her lamp, bumping it a bit before she found the switch and turned it on. Both women squeezed their eyes shut as the light blinded them.

"Aaah, bright…" Brittany groaned.

"Sorry." Santana rolled onto her side to look at Brittany, whose eyes were squeezed shut.

"Why'd you turn it on?" Brittany whined.

"Because I was thinking about how pretty you looked tonight," Santana murmured. Brittany opened her eyes, squinting. "You seemed so happy… I just wanted to look at you again." She stroked Brittany's cheek with her knuckle. "You're so beautiful, Britt."

Brittany gave Santana a shy smile. "Thank you."

"Mm hm," Santana nodded, her chin whispering against the pillow as she did. She looked into Brittany's eyes for a moment and the peacefulness she saw there washed over her. She felt a subtle tension in her ribcage release.

"Thank you for the 'feelings sex' in the hotel that night. You'd obviously be a way better therapist than Dr. Murphey; you knew exactly what I needed."

"Of course," Brittany murmured. "I did it for me too, you know. I felt weird too and I was really glad you said something."

Santana nodded and adjusted the pillow beneath her head. "We should have feelings sex more often. We've been together so long and sometimes I forget to remind you how much I love you."

"I know how much you love me, S," Brittany assured.

"Doesn't mean I can skip telling you."

Brittany just gazed at Santana in response.

Santana tucked a strand of hair over Brittany's ear and slid her fingers down Brittany's cheek, resting them on her lips. "I love you so much, Brittany Pierce," she whispered.

She wanted to give Brittany the same kind of 'feelings sex' they had had in the hotel a month before, but she didn't know how to begin putting her feelings into words. To buy herself time, she cupped Brittany's chin and leaned across the pillow to kiss her. Brittany's lips wrapped around hers, sliding together, playing ever so gently between Santana's. Santana flicked her tongue out against Brittany's lower lip and Brittany flicked hers out in response, inviting Santana to continue. Santana let her hand glide over the crest of Brittany's shoulder, resting her palm in the center of Brittany's back as she pressed her closer and slid her tongue further into her mouth. She wriggled the arm that was sandwiched between her torso and the mattress out so she could search for Brittany's hand. Fumbling, she scratched it. She ran her finger over the scratch, apologizing with a squeeze of the few fingers that could reach Brittany's sleep-warm skin.

Santana's kisses became deeper and her jaw moved on its hinge as their tongues grew bolder. Nothing had changed about their kisses. Brittany's mouth was just as wet and warm as it had always been, Brittany's tongue made the same silky rolls against Santana's, and there was a hint of bitterness from sleep. It tasted good – there was nothing to mask Brittany's night flavor. It would taste even more bitter in the morning, but right now it was just an echo of the morning lovemaking they had shared over their eight years together. It was always slow in the morning: sleepy, gentle, and sometimes wordless as their sleep-sweat turned to sex-sweat in the first bright rays of light.

Santana felt Brittany's legs rustle the sheets and her attention returned to the bedroom where the light was on and the sun wasn't rising yet. Brittany's free arm wrapped over Santana's waist, tentative as it came to rest of the small of Santana's back.

As if in a trance, Santana lifted her knee over Brittany's hip and rolled her onto her back, straddling her. They continued their sensual, confident kisses, but the pace picked up and their hands roamed. Without realizing, Santana slid her hand to grasp Brittany's breast – and their lips stopped abruptly, eyes flying open. Santana broke away, suddenly aware of what her body was doing.

Her heart raced as she felt heat pooling between her legs. She missed Brittany's touch so much that her body was aching and moving of its own accord. She realized _this_ was how she told Brittany she loved her: with her body. She never had to think about how to express herself that way.

"I- I want to…" she stuttered.

Brittany's eyes, just a few inches away, flickered back and forth between her own. "Are you sure?"

Santana gave Brittany a few quick nods and panted. She felt more sure of herself when she saw Brittany's eyes light up with hope. "I… I want to make love with you, Britt," she whispered.

Brittany's gaze never left Santana's as her hands slid up Santana's back. "I want to make love with you, too," she murmured. "So much."

Santana smiled nervously down at Brittany. It felt right, but she was still scared. How would it be after so much time? She tried to push the anxiety away as she bent down to kiss Brittany's neck.

"Will you tell me if you want to stop?" Brittany asked against Santana's ear.

Santana nodded into the silk of Brittany's hair. "Will you?"

"Uh huh."

Santana hovered next to Brittany's ear, giving it a few kisses. Since she had interrupted her body's instincts, she was unsure what to do next. "Do you – um. How do—should I take off my clothes?"

"I guess- yeah. I mean, you _can_…"

As Brittany stuttered, Santana propped herself up, shrugging the sheets off her shoulders. She crossed her arms over her stomach, lifting her tank top and placing it on the pillow next to Brittany's head. She quickly lay back down on top of Brittany to conceal herself. Santana brought her lips to Brittany's ear, licking and tugging gently, trying to draw the attention away from herself. Brittany ran her hands up from Santana's waist, coming to rest at the swells under Santana's arms, reassuring her. Santana slowly sat up, Brittany's hands slipping from her sides. She sat for a moment, feeling her heart beat while she watched Brittany's gaze alight on her breasts.

Santana looked down at herself, noticing the tension in Brittany's hands against her sides. "You can touch," she invited, trying to sound confident. Brittany remained still, so she pressed, "I want you to."

Brittany lifted her arms, hesitating for a moment before taking Santana's breasts into her palms. They both exhaled in a nervous laugh. Santana placed her own hands over Brittany's, encouraging her to grasp more firmly. Brittany's gaze flitted between Santana's face and breasts as Santana squeezed her hands. When Santana felt Brittany's hands moving of their own accord, she let her hands to fall to Brittany's shoulders.

"Does that feel good?" Brittany whispered.

Santana nodded and closed her eyes for a moment, letting her head tilt back. It _did_ feel good. Her body was coming alive again after months of paralysis; sensations of tingling and rushing flooded through her, emanating from Brittany's hands and coursing through her muscles, swirling through the basin of her hips. She felt overwhelmed and dizzy and, opening her eyes, looked down at Brittany with sudden uncertainty. Brittany saw the shift and slowed her hands. Santana felt the rushing settle and exhaled. She ran a finger from the seam at the collar of Brittany's tank top to the place where it dipped at her belly button.

"I'll take mine off too," Brittany offered. She reached for the hem of her shirt, but found Santana was sitting on it.

When Santana realized why Brittany was struggling to undress, she let out a nervous giggle. "Sorry," she said. She lifted her hips so Brittany could bunch her shirt up, watching as she arched her back and lifted her shoulders in a clumsy undulation, sliding the material over them. Santana reached for Brittany's breasts right away, but stopped herself, glancing between the pale orbs and Brittany's face.

"Go ahead," Brittany encouraged.

Santana cupped Brittany's breasts. They were warm against her fingers, smooth and softer than she had remembered. But they were just the right size, that hadn't changed; they fit perfectly in the palm of her hand, making it easy to knead and caress them. Brittany's hands rose, taking Santana's nipples between her index finger and thumb. She didn't pinch hard; she held them with the same pressure one holds a pencil at rest. Nevertheless, the touch sparked through Santana, igniting her center. She shrugged Brittany's hands away and curled forward to rest on top of her, the sleep-moist skin of their stomachs and breasts melding together as she shielded herself from the shock.

"Are you okay?" Brittany asked.

Santana nodded into Brittany's collarbone. "You feel good, Britt," she whispered. "Soft." Her voice was shaky.

Brittany ran her hands over Santana's back, feeling the warmth of the dampened skin. "You do too," she murmured.

Santana nuzzled against Brittany, listening to her heartbeat through the ear pressed to Brittany's chest. Looking up, she thought she could make out a vein in Brittany's neck that pulsed subtly in time with the thudding beneath her head. She brought her lips to the pulse, kissing it as if it were a wound. She watched it for a moment, then kissed it again, her lips lingering a bit longer. Only a moment later she kissed it again, this time long and wet and beckoning, like only a lover kisses. Brittany's hands stilled on her back and Santana moved her lips lower, giving another part of Brittany's neck the same succulent kiss. Brittany sighed as Santana moved her lips past her collarbone. Each kiss whispered _I love you_ into Brittany's skin as Santana curled her back and trailed her kisses lower until she met the swell of Brittany's breast. She paused for a moment to look up, and to her surprise, she saw anxiety in Brittany's eyes. She propped herself up on her elbow and placed her free hand in an L shape under Brittany's breast.

"Is it okay if I kiss you here?" she asked, her voice husky and soft.

"Yeah." Brittany's response was barely audible as she exhaled.

"Okay."

Santana bent her head down but kept watching for signs that Brittany wanted her to stop. She felt the firm bud brush her chin and dipped her head to take it between her lips. Her lips were dry, so she ran her tongue between them, brushing against the nipple. Brittany squirmed a little, and Santana watched her face as she slid her tongue across again, slower and with more pressure this time. Santana brought her hand to the other breast, tracing circles with her finger around the nipple as she dragged her tongue around the one in her mouth. Brittany's squirming morphed into heaving sighs as she closed her eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

When Brittany's face lit up with a genuine smile, Santana began to suck on the hardened nub. At first the pressure was light and forgiving; she tugged for a few seconds, then let the nipple slip from her lips, swiping her tongue across it several times before taking it back between her lips. Brittany's sighing and heaving turned to panting as Santana increased the pressure.

"Santana," Brittany gasped.

Santana loved the way Brittany said her name, especially in bed. Her breathy voice made the first syllable sound like "Sin" or even "S'n." With Brittany she was S'ntana, and no one else called her that.

"Santana," Brittany repeated with more urgency.

"Mm?" Santana hummed, still sucking Brittany's nipple until the inside of her cheeks tingled.

"I want to take off my pants," Brittany mumbled.

Santana let the suction go from her mouth, allowing the nipple to pop out.

"Okay. Um, do you want me to- how about- I'll take mine off too." She sat up and rolled off of Brittany, lying next to her. They slid their pajamas and underwear down their hips, kicking them to the bottom of the bed with the sheets.

Santana gave Brittany a nervous smile as she moved to sit on top of her again. She was careful to not let their centers touch each others' skin yet; her own heat rested over the channel created by Brittany's thighs, while Brittany's center was nestled between her closed legs. Santana was afraid the first touch of Brittany's skin against her sex would be like touching a doorknob during a dry winter: a sharp static shock she dreaded but couldn't avoid forever. To delay the shock, she drew her lips to Brittany's ear, licking just inside the lobe. She knew the feeling and the sound drove Brittany crazy, and sure enough, Brittany gasped and wrapped her arms around her.

Santana felt Brittany's hand try to squeeze between their flush torsos. She inhaled and lifted her hips a few inches, giving Brittany's hand space and permission. Even though her movement indicated she was receptive, Brittany's fingers paused right over her belly button as she asked, "Can I touch you?"

Santana nodded and looked Brittany in the eye. She tried not to tremble as the tips of Brittany's fingers brushed down her stomach to meet the wetness between her legs.

Santana cried out as Brittany slid her fingers through her heat. Santana's face transformed at Brittany's touch; her mouth fell open, her eyes became hooded and her brows knit, imploring. Santana had only felt this tender once in her life - their first time, over a decade ago in the afternoon light of Brittany's bedroom when they were teens and it was "just sex." Now, after eight months away from Brittany's touch, she felt just as she had then: as though she were a raw egg that had been cracked open and her yolk exposed, fragile in its casing. Brittany stroked her gently, watching Santana's face as her brow knit further and her lips pursed. Santana closed her eyes, wincing because she was so sensitive, but pleading for Brittany to keep going.

Brittany's fingers drew longer strokes along Santana, slipping through the warm slickness as she studied Santana's face intently for signs she should stop. Tonight there was a hint of hesitation Santana hadn't seen since they were young.

Brittany's fingers slid up to Santana's clit and lingered, holding still for a moment before beginning tiny, feather-light circles. Santana's mouth fell open as a little moan flew out. Her pleading expression mixed with traces of fear for a moment. Brittany was being gentle, but being at Brittany's mercy - even while sitting on top of her - was inevitable, familiar, and frightening. She pushed into the fear, pressing down onto Brittany's fingers as a high-pitched grunt trembled from her lips.

Santana rubbed herself along Brittany's hand until she felt herself spinning too quickly, tensing too soon. She stilled her hips and gripped Brittany's wrist. She wanted to take her time, making sure she was grounded before she jumped.

"I want to touch you," Santana panted. "Can- … can I?"

"Yeah," Brittany whispered.

Brittany removed her hand as Santana sat up and placed her hands on Brittany's ribcage. She drew them down, resting one just below Brittany's navel as she moved the other down to slide a finger into the crevice of Brittany's mound. It was hot and murky with arousal, but Santana couldn't draw more than a few little beckonings into it while Brittany's legs were clamped together, trapped by Santana's straddle. Santana lifted herself up and hovered over Brittany, balancing on her other hand. Brittany spread her legs and Santana lengthened the circular pulses into Brittany's sex, never dipping all the way inside.

"Good?" Santana whispered, looking between them at the way her wrist moved.

"Good!" Brittany panted.

Santana met her gaze and saw an expression of pleasure mixed with longing. She paused her fingers and very gently slid them all the way inside, feeling the wet heat envelope them. The tender flesh seemed to exhale at the familiar feeling.

"Oh…" Brittany groaned as she arched up towards Santana. "Oh god, Santana…" she heaved.

Santana began the rhythmic dipping with her fingers, slow and gentle, feeling for any resistance or discomfort. Although it had been a long time, she could still read Brittany's body. She knew the different tensions of her stomach: which one meant _too much_ and which one meant _more_. She knew her different breathing patterns: the deep but quickening pants that meant _I'm getting closer_, and the halting, shallow breaths that meant _do that again_. All the sounds and the movements between them formed a language she didn't realize she knew so well. She felt a sudden, unexpected homecoming and shut her eyes to keep joyous tears at bay.

Before Santana's tears could seep between her lashes, Brittany tilted her chin up. "Kiss me," she urged. Santana brought her mouth down, their tongues immediately conversing.

Santana felt Brittany's hand reach between them again, ghosting between her hipbones on their way back to her center. Her tears halted for a minute as she exhaled into Brittany's touch. It was no longer like the doorknob shock; it was all pleasure and softness and excitement.

Santana concentrated on the movement between them, her fingers dipping in and out of Brittany, Brittany rubbing circles into Santana. She wanted Brittany to feel the inside of her the way she felt Brittany; treasured inner flesh wrapped around her fingers, pulsing together. She reached down with her free hand to guide Brittany inside. As her hand wrapped around Brittany's fingers, she felt the promise ring, its tiny rubies like a mere scratches on the tarnished surface. She slid Brittany's fingers inside, feeling the ring press against her as she arched at the filling sensation.

Santana felt as if some unknown reserve of happiness had overflowed within her. She had Brittany in every way she could want her: in her life, in her heart, and in her hand. Knowing that Brittany wanted her in all the same ways, she could no longer hold back her tears.

Brittany reached up to cup Santana's face and pull her in for a kiss. When her palm found wetness on Santana's cheek, she froze, eyes flying open.

"Baby, are you _cry_ing?"

"Maybe." Santana sniffled, trying to connect their lips, but Brittany turned away.

"Then let's stop!" Brittany said, alarmed.

"No, it's good tears," Santana mumbled.

"Are you sure?"

"Uh huh," Santana nodded, still sniffling.

Brittany remained alert but let Santana kiss her mouth. She slowed the motion of her fingers inside Santana as she ran her other hand up and down Santana's side to soothe her. Brittany's tenderness made Santana feel impossibly lost in her and her chest tightened more. When Santana's crying increased so her lips shook against Brittany's mouth and her side trembled in Brittany's hand, Brittany pulled her lips away.

"Do you want to take a break for a minute?"

Santana thought for a moment and then nodded, scooting down Brittany's thighs. The movement caused Brittany's fingers to slip out of her, although she kept her own inside Brittany, unmoving. She sat for a moment, taking deep breaths as she wiped her face against her shoulder.

Brittany watched Santana with unmasked concern. She lifted Santana's wrist away from her own center, intertwining their sticky fingers. She held her hand and let her cry; Santana never let her gaze wander from Brittany.

"Don't push yourself, sweetheart. We can stop." Brittany's voice was as gentle as ever.

Santana shook her head and slipped her hand out of Brittany's grasp to wipe her face. Her fingers smeared against her cheek, pairing the salt with traces of arousal. Santana thought it was fitting when she caught the scent a moment later.

Brittany's words were tender as she asked, "Why are you crying, sweetheart?"

Santana sniffled, still gazing down at Brittany. "I just love you so much," she choked. "It feels really good to be with you again… almost too good."

Brittany gave Santana an adoring smile. "It does feel really good. I've missed being with you _so_ much." She ran her fingers over the skin below Santana's belly button, feeling how it quivered as Santana sniffled. "So much…" she echoed.

Santana looked down at her, seeing the warmth Brittany held for her. Warmth turned to lust in her eyes and Santana's tears ceased. She was drawn into Brittany, feeling her own want react to what she saw on Brittany's face. Their mouths came crashing back together, Brittany's lip pinched between their teeth. Santana felt her flinch and pulled back.

"Sorry!" she gasped. "Sorry."

Brittany licked the part of her lip that had been pinched before slurring, "S'okay," and tilting her chin back up.

Santana examined the lip, not seeing any blood, and gave the pinch-spot a few gentle pecks. "I'll slow down," she promised before wrapping her lips around it. They kissed slowly for a moment, but their bodies grew more frantic, undulating together.

"Touch me," Santana begged against Brittany's lips, lifting her hips. "Please."

Brittany slid her hand between them, this time confident as her fingers slipped inside Santana. While she pressed in and out in a slowly increasing rhythm, she slid her other hand down and ran circles over Santana's clit.

Santana was tensing, but she wasn't sure she had the extra push to catapult her to resolution. One single, terrifying thought flitted through her mind, wreaking havoc:

_She'll leave you again._

She heard the thought clattering and she retreated, shuddering and clenching. She tried to block it out, reasoning:

_A promise is a promise; she wants to be with me more than she wants anything else._

She still lingered away from the ledge. She ground her hips down onto Brittany's hand, fighting against her own withholding, begging herself to let go.

"Santana, look at me," Brittany whispered.

Santana opened her eyes to meet Brittany's gaze, calm and earnest.

"I love you."

And that was all the reason Santana needed.

She bore down, straining and arching as she released, letting Brittany's fingers pull her, whirling through tumults and waves. She was suspended there for ages, feeling weightless and whole.

Warmth spread up through her as she came down to rest against Brittany's chest while she rode the final waves on Brittany's fingers. After a moment she began to laugh from deep in her belly. Brittany grinned, amused and fascinated by Santana's reaction. For Santana, the reunion felt complete. Stripped down to her very essence, faced with all her insecurities and doubts, she was able to merge with Brittany completely once again. She giggled for a moment with her eyes closed, content to lay there forever. She let her breathing even out before she spoke.

"That was good, Britt…" she sighed. "So good." She kissed the skin right below her mouth on Brittany's chest. "I want to make you feel that good," she purred, running her hand around the curve of Brittany's breast. She tilted her head up to look at Brittany and was surprised to see traces of doubt on her face, despite her smile. "Do you want me to?" she asked.

Brittany gave her a subtle nod.

Santana shifted, moving one leg to rest between Brittany's. She ran her hand from Brittany's breast to her waist and traced her hipbone, brushing over the pale skin leading to her center. Dipping down, she drew vertical circles through Brittany's folds, pushing in just to the first knuckle. Brittany began to pant, her chest lifting Santana up and down as she heaved.

"More," Brittany moaned, tipping her pelvis up.

Santana slipped two fingers inside and propped herself up on her free palm, watching Brittany's face twist through expressions of pleasure. Within a few minutes she felt Brittany tensing beneath her and smiled, encouraging her to come out to the ledge. Yet there was something fearful in Brittany's expression that was new to Santana.

"It's okay," Santana whispered. "It's okay... Let go, Britt. It feels _so_ good."

Brittany gave Santana a nervous nod, but Santana saw tears starting to form in her eyes. She bent down to kiss each of Brittany's cheeks. "I love you _so_ much. Let go, baby."

Santana curled her fingers up and pressed down onto her clit with her thumb. Brittany clenched and then arched beneath her, a strained cry wrenching from her throat. She shook, her legs gripping Santana's thigh and trapping her hand. Santana tried to keep moving inside, but Brittany reached down to stop her hand, gasping. Santana smiled as she felt the squeezing around her knuckles, the desperate grip on her wrist, and the way Brittany arched beneath her. The tendons in Brittany's neck stood out as she gasped and cried out again, this time more of a whimper. Her back returned to the bed with a muted thud.

Instantly Brittany's face contorted, eyes squeezed shut and her top lip tucked under the bottom. Santana's smile fell as she saw tears squeeze through Brittany's lashes and down her temples. She bent her head to kiss the tracks that gleamed silver in the dim light.

"I'm sorry!" Brittany choked. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Don't be sorry, sweetie," Santana pleaded, her voice soft. "I cried too." She withdrew her hand and wiped it on the sheet.

"No, not that," Brittany whimpered, still panting. "I'm sorry I missed your graduation and the Bar and your new job and I'm- I'm- I'm _sorry_!"

Brittany started shuddering beneath her, so Santana bent to press her lips to Brittany's ear, tears sticking to her cheek and blending into her skin. "Shhh, shh," she hushed. "It's okay… you're here now."

Brittany's crying turned to wails, though she tried to keep them small and quiet. Santana drew her arms around Brittany's head and cradled it against her neck as she continued hushing. Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana's back, clinging as if Santana might float away.

"Don't let me go!" Brittany sobbed. "Don't let me go…"

Santana brushed Brittany's sweat-sticky neck with her nose, her cheek sliding through Brittany's tears. "I won't. I promise." She nuzzled down into Brittany's hair, hushing her until she stopped shaking and her breathing evened.

"It was so much," Brittany whimpered, not quite articulate through her tears as she released her grip on Santana. "So much…"

"Yeah," Santana hushed, drawing her head back to look at Brittany. "It was."

Brittany tried to even her breathing again as she gazed up at Santana. She reached for Santana's hand, clutching at it against the sheets. Eventually she let out a long, controlled breath.

"That's how _you_ do feelings sex," Brittany murmured. "By making love."

Santana smiled and nodded, running her knuckle over Brittany's tearstained cheek. "C'mere," she said, rolling off Brittany onto her side. She scooted her hips against Brittany's side and tapped Brittany's thigh, signaling for her to turn.

""Will you be able to sleep?" Brittany asked without moving.

"Mm hm."

Brittany gave Santana a watery smile and pulled the covers over them as she shimmied into the nook of Santana's hips. She gave a contented, relieved sigh as Santana draped an arm over her waist and pulled her close. Closing her eyes, she took Santana's hand in hers and squeezed, bringing it to her lips before holding it against her chest. "I love you," she murmured, "so, so much."

"I love you too, Britt," Santana hummed, pressing a smile into Brittany's shoulder as he curled tightly around her.

They fell asleep holding each other, relieved that their bed was a haven once again.


	48. Oh My God

**Chapter 48: Oh My God**

Chapter title song and **soundtrack**: "Oh My God" by P!nk. Wait until the first line break to start playing it! It doesn't quite fit the first scene. Please note the song is not safe for work…

Thank you to my Master Beta, terriblemuriel.

* * *

><p>One month later, late September 2019<p>

* * *

><p>Santana felt her phone vibrate in a short pulse in the pocket of her blazer. She scanned the room, gauging where the attention of her colleagues was directed at the moment. She was in the middle of a human resources meeting for the administrative law division of Kelley &amp; Fischer, and was not as bored as she had expected to be. An HR representative was discussing recent amendments to the company healthcare policy, and Santana was pleased with the changes regarding coverage for unmarried and same-sex partners. Brittany already received health benefits as Santana's dependent, but the new policy extended the coverage to include vision, dental, and a wider array of mental health services. Brittany was relentlessly looking for work, but in the meantime Santana adored providing for her. Knowing she could protect Brittany's health felt wonderful. It made her feel like all her hard work in college and law school was finally paying off.<p>

As interesting as the meeting was, she still put her hand in her pocket and slipped her phone under the table to read the text message:

From: _Britt_. Message: _Want to come home for lunch?_

Santana suppressed a smile and typed '_Sounds perfect, baby, be there in an hour,'_ into the reply box, pressing send before slipping the phone back into her pocket. She wondered if Brittany was inviting her home for lunch or for "lunch."

Since they had started having sex again, things had been steadily getting better. It had surprised her that Brittany had struggled more than she had with their physical reconnection, so much so that they had gone to see Carmine a few more times. Carmine was patient and gentle, reassuring them that it was perfectly normal to ease back into intimacy, and applauding the progress Brittany had made in discussing her guilt about leaving. The more Brittany talked, the more adventurous she became in bed. Santana had newfound respect for Brittany. Watching her struggle with something she had previously found so easy humanized her and made Santana adore her even more.

As soon as the meeting was over, Santana slipped out a few minutes before her usual lunch break and ran to her car.

* * *

><p>Brittany stood in front of the stove stirring something that sizzled in the skillet. Santana walked up behind her and kissed the back of her neck as she placed her hands on Brittany's hips. "I love you in that apron," she murmured, pressing against her.<p>

Brittany grinned and put down the spatula. She turned around, pulling Santana against her by the hips. The small of Brittany's back pressed into the handle of the oven as Santana leaned into her, giddy as she gave Brittany a slow, wet kiss that made a little smack when the seal broke. Brittany exhaled and trembled a bit when she saw how eager Santana was. She kissed Santana again, energy behind her lips and tongue as it slid out to tangle with Santana's. Santana melted as the warmth of Brittany's mouth flooded hers and trailed across her lips, chin and jaw.

"I want you so bad right now," Brittany whispered into Santana's neck.

Santana smiled. "Yeah?" she purred, pleased she had interpreted Brittany's text message correctly.

"Yeah," Brittany husked. "I've been thinking about you all day."

Brittany's lips collided with Santana's again, insatiable now that that they both knew what was happening. Santana felt the heat in her stomach and the fire on the stove behind Brittany as Brittany pressed her backwards, shuffling them forward until Santana's back met the lip of the sink. Brittany put one hand behind Santana's neck as she smothered her with her lips, her tongue asserting itself against Santana's. Her other hand slid up from Santana's hip to squeeze her breast. Santana shrugged off her blazer and began unbuttoning her shirt. When she untucked her shirt from her skirt, Brittany ran her hands under, slipping under Santana's bra to grope and pinch her already-hardened nipples. Santana moaned into Brittany's mouth.

"Bed?" Santana panted between furious kisses.

"Mm-mm," Brittany hummed against Santana's lips. "Right here."

Santana grinned into their kiss.

Their kissing grew deeper and more furious as Santana fumbled under Brittany's apron, unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans. Brittany shimmied out of them, pushing the denim down her hips as she wriggled and stepped out, kicking them off against the refrigerator. Brittany finished unbuttoning Santana's shirt and pulled it off her arms so forcefully it almost ripped. She tossed the shirt away and it fell in the sink. She jammed her hand down Santana's skirt, quickly gentling her force when Santana tensed. Her fingers crept down the cotton of Santana's underwear, pausing for one teasing moment before tapping on Santana's clit. Santana gasped, her torso bending forward into Brittany's as she felt herself igniting.

Brittany unzipped Santana's skirt with her free hand and pushed it down while Santana removed her own bra. Brittany lifted Santana's leg and wrapped it around her waist. When Santana was steady, Brittany pressed her fingers onto Santana's clit again. Santana tilted her head back, catching herself on the ledge of the sink with her hands as her back arched over it. Brittany began making circles over the cotton, leaning forward to lick and suck Santana's neck. Santana used her leg to pull Brittany's hips into her, creating a rhythm. Her breathing quickly joined the pattern.

When Santana felt she was getting too close too soon, she dropped her leg, breaking their cadence. She stilled Brittany's hand. "Britt, if I don't fuck you _right_ now I'm gonna explode," she whimpered, hands fumbling around Brittany's hips. "I need to touch you." She ran her fingers under the apron and across Brittany's underwear, slipping her hand between Brittany's legs. The warmth and wetness she found there sucked the air out of her lungs. She pressed up into it, further soaking the material.

Brittany let out a moan at the contact, louder than was customary for her. "_God_, I want you," she groaned, her hips bucking, her hand trembling against Santana's clit. She pressed her fingers down onto Santana with a fast, firm pulse, causing Santana's knees to buckle. Brittany could have caught Santana with her other arm or held her against the sink with her pelvis, but she let Santana slide down the cabinet door. Santana came to rest on the floor, legs jelly beneath her.

Brittany crouched down in front of Santana, pulling her forward by the neck, kissing her again. Santana leaned into Brittany, hands sliding over her shoulders and running over her back. She pushed forward into their kiss until she was forced onto her knees, prowling like a cat, pressing Brittany onto the floor until she lay flat beneath her. She was consumed with lust as she kicked her skirt off her ankles and lay on top of Brittany. No sooner had she settled there than Brittany rolled her over, pinning her down by the wrists. Santana felt the plastic floor sticky beneath her, a few crumbs poking into the skin of her back, but she didn't mind. She was far more interested in the beauty lying on top of her.

"I want to fuck you first," Brittany murmured.

"I'll fight you for it," Santana challenged, raising an eyebrow with a coy smile.

"You're on," Brittany grinned.

Santana yanked her wrists from Brittany's grasp, placing them out of reach on Brittany's back. For a moment Brittany tried to pull them away and re-pin them by grabbing at Santana's elbows, but decided her efforts were better spent reducing Santana to a panting, gasping mess beneath her.

"_God_, I love you," Brittany purred into Santana's neck between kisses, "so fucking much." She pulled Santana's panties down around her knees. Santana opened her mouth to say '_I love you too_,' but her words were cut off as Brittany slid her fingers up Santana's slit, collecting some of the abundant arousal on her index and middle fingers. Brittany lifted her hand to her lips, exhaling through her nose and rolling her eyes back as she sucked her fingers, moaning. She made a popping sound as she pulled her fingers out of her mouth. She ran her tongue around them several times before groaning, "You taste _so_ good."

Santana whimpered and arched her back as she reached up to grasp Brittany's breasts through her t-shirt and apron, squeezing as she slid her thigh up against Brittany's sex. Brittany exhaled, closing her eyes and smiling as she reached back down and pushed her wet, sticky fingers into Santana's sex. Santana's mouth fell open, shallow breaths escaping in shaky puffs as she adjusted to the feel of Brittany's fingers inside her. As Brittany began moving them in and out, Santana's efforts to top her became less adamant. Brittany's hips rocked with the motion of her hand, undulating as if they were connected and Brittany were thrusting with her hips. It reminded Santana of when they used a strap-on, which always reduced her to monosyllabic grunts and moans.

Suddenly Santana smelled something odd. She wrinkled her nose, sniffing the charred and hot air, quickly realizing it was smoke. "Baby, the food's burning!" she gasped.

Brittany jolted up, removing her fingers from Santana as she sprang up to flip the dial of the burner off. She slid the skillet to a cold burner before lying down on top of Santana again, attempting to continue her assault on Santana's neck. Santana began giggling uncontrollably, laughing at their adolescent abandon, not caring that their meal was ruined. Brittany began to laugh too, lips pulsing and vibrating against Santana's neck, making Santana laugh even harder. They lay there in a fit of giggles for a minute until Santana sighed, smiling as her eyes met Brittany's.

Brittany's eyes became serious and lust-filled once more. She bent her head to kiss Santana's neck, fervor renewed.

"Uh!" Santana grunted as Brittany's fingers slid back inside her, deeper this time. "Oh god, Britt!" she panted.

Brittany started pounding into Santana with her fingers, pulling back to see Santana's eyes squeezed shut and her toes curling. She knew in just a few minutes Santana would be writhing and screaming beneath her. She grinned.

Santana grabbed Brittany's wrist, trying to still her hand. "Baby," she panted, "baby, hold on. Oh my god, I'm so fucking close but you _have_ to let me fuck you too." She reached to touch Brittany, but the apron presented a barrier to her frustrated hand.

Brittany ignored her, so Santana tightened her grasp on Brittany's pumping wrist until she was sure her fingers were leaving marks.

"Britt, I know you heard me," Santana warned, reaching to undo the apron strings behind Brittany's back. Brittany lowered her head so she was biting and sucking Santana's right nipple, ignoring Santana's plea.

"I get to fuck you too!" Santana cried in both pleasure and exasperation. She pulled Brittany's hand out of her, bringing her other hand down with a _smack_ against Brittany's ass. Brittany's mouth released Santana's nipple as she gasped, relinquishing.

"Okay," Brittany panted. "You can fuck me too."

Santana's limbs sprang into action. "Goddamn…. apron strings," she muttered, trying to untangle one from her leg. Brittany helped by slipping the apron off her neck and throwing it to the side. Santana quickly removed Brittany's t-shirt, followed by her bra, which she flung to the side, its strap catching on a cabinet door handle. Santana pushed Brittany's panties down and Brittany shimmied out of them.

Santana smiled as she slid her hand between their bodies, anticipating the hot stickiness that would soon coat her fingers. But Brittany caught her wrist and shook her head with a devilish grin.

"You said I could!" Santana whined.

"I said you could fuck me," Brittany murmured. She brought her mouth to Santana's ear, brushing her lips against it as she dropped her voice and added, "I didn't say with your hand."

Santana's breath hitched in excitement, but she second-guessed herself. Usually she was eager to let Brittany top her, even if she did put up a small fight, but she couldn't help but wonder if it was different now. They had made tremendous progress over the past two months, but they were still rebuilding, and that had to extend to their lovemaking.

Brittany must have had the same thought, because she softened and kissed Santana on the lips. "Can I sit on your face, baby?" she murmured, nuzzling Santana's cheek. "Please?"

Santana's eyes widened, her expression serious as she nodded. She watched as Brittany smiled and crawled on all fours up her torso until her sex hovered right above Santana's face. Santana trembled as she breathed in the heady scent of Brittany's arousal. Brittany began to lower herself, watching as Santana licked her lips and lifted her head off the floor, eager to taste. Brittany lifted her hips back up, reprimanding Santana with a teasing "ah, ah!" When Santana rested her head back on the floor, Brittany lowered herself until she came to rest directly on Santana's mouth. Santana immediately started licking and sucking, her tongue darting about, crazed.

Santana _loved_ when Brittany sat on her face. She felt smothered, drenched, and completely covered in their fucking. Sometimes there wasn't enough air, and when she _was_ able to breathe, the air was thick and hot and filled with Brittany's juices. Everything about it made her dizzy and unbearably turned on. Since she wasn't able to speak, she grunted and murmured her appreciation as best she could into Brittany's hot flesh. She brought her hands up to knead Brittany's ass, pushing up or pulling down on Brittany's hips to communicate when she needed air.

Already frenzied from Brittany's earlier ministrations, Santana couldn't help but let go of one of Brittany's hips to reach down and touch herself. Her tongue became jerkier, her eyes closed, and her panting sounded like tiny whines whenever she exhaled. Brittany smirked and leaned back, supporting herself with one arm so her pelvis tilted up, allowing Santana more space to breathe as she reached behind her to replace Santana's hand with her own.

Santana's hips bucked at Brittany's touch and she drew her legs up, still laced together by the underwear around her knees. Now she had to lift her head off the floor a bit to fuck Brittany with her tongue.

"You need something?" Brittany hummed, making slow circles on Santana's clit.

Santana nodded, her nose pushing against Brittany's clit.

"What do you need?" Brittany cooed.

"Your mouth," Santana panted, her tongue delving into Brittany for a moment. "_Please_, Britt."

Brittany rose and spun over Santana so she was facing Santana's feet. Santana watched as Brittany's sex moved above her, wanting the hot, wet flesh back against her face. Brittany slid Santana's underwear all the way off and lowered herself onto Santana, fitting together like a jigsaw. She tilted her chin down and ran her tongue across Santana's clit in one smooth, teasing motion.

It was like a circuit was connected between them. Santana jerked and opened her legs wider to give Brittany more access, groaning into her folds. Not only was the touch itself electric, but the feeling was amplified by her joy that they were able to be spontaneous, naughty and carefree with their lovemaking again.

Brittany lapped at Santana's sex with the same voracity as Santana, though perhaps more dexterously. Feeling overwhelmed, Santana made an effort to roll them over, pinning Brittany to the ground so she could at least have the advantage of being on top. She hoped that would buy her a few more minutes until she came. To her surprise, Brittany allowed the maneuver, adjusting her limbs to their new position as she lifted her head to continue ravishing Santana. Brittany hummed, tilting her hips up into Santana's mouth.

Brittany began rapidly fluttering her tongue over Santana's clit. Santana felt herself tightening and gripped Brittany's thighs, trying to hold on for a few minutes, but it was no use. She catapulted over the edge, jerking on top of Brittany and lifting her head to gasp and curse.

"_Fuck_, Britt," she moaned. "Oh my god…" Her neck strained back and she winced as her legs clamped around Brittany's shoulders. She collapsed, panting, head against Brittany's thigh with her eyes closed and a sleepy smile on her lips. This kind of breathless, lustful abandon was something they hadn't felt in a long time. It was blissfully exhausting.

As soon as she stopped trembling, Santana returned her tired mouth to Brittany's sex. She slipped her hand under Brittany's thigh and pushed two fingers inside, hooking into her as she drew upwards, sucking and licking with as much energy as she could muster. She started pumping faster, feeling Brittany's chest rise and fall in growing heaves against her belly. Brittany started to quake and Santana increased the suction in her mouth, drawing Brittany into a breathtaking orgasm. She heard nothing but her own heartbeat as Brittany's legs clamped over her ears and her stomach stiffened against Santana's breasts. She felt the vibrations of a strained cry against her own sex and continued sucking and thrusting until Brittany's thighs released her head. Santana felt warm breath against the inside of her thighs as Brittany let out a long, contented sigh.

"Oh my _god_, I missed that," Brittany groaned, letting her legs fall flat on the floor.

"Me too," Santana grinned, rolling off Brittany onto the floor. "I don't even know if I can say I _missed_ that, because I don't remember anything being that hot… ever."

Brittany nodded, chest still heaving. "Sorry the food burned," she sighed. "You got me so worked up I forgot what I was doing."

"Its okay," Santana smiled. "It was worth it."

Brittany exhaled into a grin. "I agree."

"Leftover pizza instead?" Santana mumbled.

"Totally."

The girls lay head-to-toe on the floor until all they felt was warm and good and sleepy. Santana sat up, turning around so she could kiss Brittany's cheek. She snuggled against her for a few moments, so happy to have her Brittany –happy as ever – pressed against her.

"Hey, don't some antidepressants take away your sex drive?" Santana asked, brows knit above closed eyes. She didn't know why the thought had just struck her; they'd had plenty of sex over the past month. Perhaps it was the frantic nature of this particular rendezvous that made her think of it now.

"Not all," Brittany smirked.

"That's good," Santana smiled, nuzzling into Brittany's beck. "I would be sad if you didn't want to have kitchen floor sex with me once in a while."

"I will _always_ want to have kitchen floor sex with you," Brittany lilted. Her words vibrated deep in her chest as Santana lay against it.

Santana's ear stuck to Brittany's skin as she listened to the thud of her heartbeat. When it settled, she sighed. "Ugh, I don't want to go back to woooork," she groaned.

"Aw, but your clients _need_ you," Brittany cooed, tucking Santana's hair behind her ear.

"Mmm… not as much as I need _you_," Santana hummed, snuggling closer and placing a kiss on Brittany's chest.

"How about I give you something to look forward to when you come home tonight?" Brittany purred.

"Like what?"

"Like… having wine and cheese and fruit on the living room floor for dinner."

"What will you be wearing?" Santana mumbled.

"Well in true Dionysian style, it'd have to be some sort of toga."

"So… basically a sheet?" Santana opened her eyes and raised an eyebrow.

"Obviously."

"That's a pretty good incentive."

"Only if you go back to work!" Brittany said in a sing-song voice, tapping Santana on the nose.

"Okay," Santana sighed, "I'll go. But I need a new shirt, since you threw mine in the sink. I should probably take a quick shower, too."

Brittany kissed the top of her head, chuckling. "I'll heat up your pizza and put it in a container to take with you."

* * *

><p>A few hours later, Santana sat in her cubicle, smiling as she alphabetized files. She felt closer to Brittany than ever; they were still just as much in love as they had been in high school. She felt like a teenager again, only more secure and perhaps a little wiser. She heard her phone vibrate in her purse and fished it out. It was Brittany. She smiled and purred, "Hey, baby, how's that toga coming along?"<p>

Brittany was gasping in jagged, heaving breaths – _not_ the sexy kind. "Santana, I need you to come home right now," she panted, taking big gulps of air. "Right now," she repeated.

Santana's anxiety shot up; Brittany was not one for dramatics, and from the sound of it, she was hyperventilating. "Is everything okay? Are you hurt?"

"No. Just come home, please," Brittany whimpered between wet sniffles.

"Baby, what happened?"

"I can't… I just-" Brittany coughed. She began to sob. "Please come _home_!"

"Okay, I'll leave right now," Santana assured, standing up as her heart raced. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Do you want me to stay on the phone while I drive?" she asked as she grabbed her purse and blazer.

"Yeah..." Brittany choked.

"Okay. I'm right here, B." She darted out the door, giving no explanation to her coworkers.


	49. Silent House

**Chapter 49: Silent House**

Chapter title song and **soundtrack**: "Silent House" by The Dixie Chicks

**Thank you to my amazing betas, Mia and terriblemuriel. You are my greatest aides in drawing my ideas from mind to page.**

* * *

><p>Santana's body was icy with fear as she ran to her car, phone still pressed to her ear.<p>

"I'm getting in my car right now," she narrated. "Do you need me to get anything on the way?"

"No…" Brittany whimpered.

"Okay, I'm backing out of my parking spot. I'm on my way, sweetheart. Just sit tight."

"Okay…"

Santana held the phone to her ear, telling Brittany as she passed familiar landmarks like the park with the fountain and their favorite coffee shop. She listened to Brittany's sniffles and raspy breaths, paralyzed with dread, save for her foot on the gas and her hand on the wheel. What could possibly have happened in the two hours since they had been lying on the kitchen floor in a sweaty, happy mess? Was Brittany having scary, depressed thoughts again? Had someone broken into their apartment? Was Brittany lying when she said she wasn't hurt? What could have _possibly_ made Brittany so upset?

Santana made it home in ten minutes, squealing into her parking spot. She dashed up the stairs, keys rattling as she swung the door open and slammed it shut behind her.

"Baby?" she called as she clattered down the hall, dropping her purse and keys.

Brittany was sitting on the edge of the bed in her jogging clothes with her phone in her lap. She looked up, her face puffy and red.

"Baby, what is it?" Santana said, rushing to her side.

Brittany was exhausted from crying. "My dad…" she sobbed.

Santana felt her body surge as if ice had been stuck in every crevice. She was relieved Brittany was okay, but she was overwhelmed with panic for Gordon. "What – what happened? Is he okay?" she gulped.

Brittany shook her head, looking at her lap. "He had a stroke," she gasped through wet coughs.

Santana had never felt as fearful as she did then. She took stock of Brittany, her hair disheveled and face contorted in anguish. She couldn't help but jump to the worst possible conclusion. "Is he…?" She couldn't finish the sentence without choking, her stomach already curling in on itself. The _last_ thing Brittany needed was a tragedy to knock her recovery off course.

"He's alive," Brittany mumbled, wiping her face.

Santana knelt on the floor in front of Brittany in relief, but still physically hurting at the pain she saw on Brittany's face. She wanted to make it stop, but was at a loss. She tried to think of what she would want most if she were in Brittany's shoes: obviously, for her father's miraculous and spontaneous recovery, but that was magical thinking. She knew what Brittany would want most of all was to be near her family.

"We have to go!" Santana panted after a moment. "We have to go back to Lima." She put her hands on Brittany's knees, giving them a light squeeze.

Brittany took Santana's hand and squeezed it, shutting her eyes as tears rolled down her face. She nodded, pursing her lips to keep them from trembling.

"Okay. When do we- we'll leave right now," Santana determined. She stood and flung open their closets and took out a duffle bag.

"Santana," Brittany pleaded.

Santana looked over her shoulder. Brittany looked small, frightened and almost child-like as she sat hunched over in her rumpled jogging clothes. Santana darted back to her side, wrapping her in a firm embrace. She wanted to say '_everything will be okay_,' but she couldn't; she didn't know it would be. She simply held her, feeling Brittany's breaths pulse erratically against her chest. She wished she could give Brittany her strength, willing it to jump from her own body into Brittany's. She held her, rocking back and forth for several minutes. "I'm here, baby. I'm going to make sure we get there safely, and when we do I'm going to take care of you and your mom. I'm not going to let go." Brittany seemed to settle after a while.

"Okay," Brittany snuffled. "Let's go."

Santana nodded, giving her one last squeeze before standing up. "Let's get you cleaned up, and then we'll get in the car and drive."

Brittany nodded and Santana helped her take off her clothes and get in the shower. While Brittany rinsed her hair, Santana threw a section of clothing from Brittany's closet into the duffle bag, followed by a section from her own. She darted into the bathroom, throwing bottles and tubes into a smaller bag, double-checking that she had packed Brittany's antidepressants. Next she went to the kitchen, stuffing bags full of food for the drive and whatever stints at the hospital lay ahead.

Within twenty minutes Santana was backing out of their parking space. Brittany sat in the passenger seat, head tilted back against the headrest, staring blankly in front of her.

Santana reached for Brittany's hand and squeezed it. "All you have to do is breathe, Britt. I'll do the rest."

Brittany closed her eyes and nodded, squeezing Santana's hand back. "Don't let me go," she whispered.

"I won't, sweetheart. I won't."

They sped back to Ohio, holding hands the whole way.

* * *

><p>The next day around noon, Santana and Brittany dashed through the sliding doors of Lima General, hands still clasped tightly. The whole trip there, including a brief overnight at a motel in Pittsburg, Santana had focused on Brittany and how to protect her and make this trip easier for her. The only information they had was that Gordon had had a stroke that required immediate surgery, and was alive but in critical condition. It was difficult to reassure Brittany without knowing more. Having no knowledge of strokes aside from her father's brief descriptions over dinner and medical dramas she had seen on TV, Santana resorted to focusing on concrete things like food and charting the fastest route to the hospital. As they had drawn closer, Santana found herself growing more and more restless.<p>

"Should we bring flowers or something?" Santana asked as they passed the gift shop on their way to the ICU.

"No, I just want to go in."

"Okay, it's room 5B." Santana had been in brief contact with Vickie over the course of their drive, sending text messages alerting her to their whereabouts and receiving periodic updates. After a brain scan, the neurologist had determined that Gordon required surgery to remove the blood clot from his brain. The procedure had gone off without a hitch and he seemed to be stabilizing, but they wouldn't know more until the critical first few days were over.

Brittany and Santana rounded the corner, seeing a stark hallway of doors. Nurses rushed up and down the hall and a few people in street clothes paced outside of various rooms. They saw room 5B and Brittany moved to dart inside.

Suddenly fearful, Santana held her back. "Wait a minute, B," she hushed.

Brittany turned back to her with questioning eyes.

"Are you okay?" Santana asked, looking at Brittany with concern, "Do you need to take a few deep breaths or something before we go in?"

Brittany looked annoyed. "I'm fine, I just want to see my dad and make sure my mom's okay."

"Are you sure?"

"_Yes_!" Brittany whined. "We didn't drive all this way to stand in the hall!"

Brittany pulled her hand free from Santana's and pushed her way into the room.

_Momma, I'm here!_ Santana heard Brittany say in a frantic whisper. She saw Brittany run into her mother's arms as the door swung closed behind her. Santana pushed the door open again and walked inside.

She was _not_ prepared for what she saw when she entered the room.

Gordon's head was bandaged almost entirely in thick, white wrappings. It seemed like dozens of monitors were hooked up to him, various tubes and needles sticking into his head, nose, throat and arms. The eyelids that were visible through the wrappings were swollen and purple. He looked frozen and lifeless, as if he were mummified.

Santana realized there was more to this situation than she could ever hope to manage by focusing on food and driving and Brittany. She looked from Gordon to Vickie to Brittany, horrified and feeling helpless. None of the stories she's heard from her father's residency days in the ER seemed as gruesome as the reality that Gordon could have died. She didn't realize how much she cared for Brittany's parents until that moment.

"Santana," Vickie invited, lifting her arm from Brittany's back, gesturing for Santana to join their embrace.

Though her stomach was churning, she walked toward Vickie, wrapping one arm around her back and the other around Brittany. She held them there, focusing on her breathing and trying to erase the image in her head of the man behind her. As she began to feel lightheaded, she tried not to collapse onto the two women in her embrace. After what felt like an acceptable amount of time for a reassuring hug, she couldn't stand to be in the room any more. "I… I need to use the bathroom," she stuttered.

"Down the hall to the left," Vickie supplied.

Santana bolted from the room. Her stomach folded in on itself and her skin felt clammy, hot and cold at the same time. She was too disoriented to walk toward the bathroom. She paced around in the hallway, pressing one hand to her head and the other to her stomach, checking for a fever and willing herself not to vomit. She could feel perspiration prickling from her forehead as she began to shake, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. She needed to sit down somewhere cold and solid. As her heart pounded, she felt as if there was only about a cup of blood in her entire body and not quite enough of it was flowing to her head. She was sure she was going to faint, which made her even more terrified. What if she hit her head on the marble? What if she got hurt and Brittany had to deal with her dad _and_ Santana being in the hospital? She leaned against the wall, slumping down it to sit on the floor. A passing nurse glanced at her, making her feel even sicker.

"You doin' okay?" the nurse asked.

"Fine," Santana choked. She didn't want anyone to see her like this. She was relieved her father worked across town at St. Rita's.

Santana cursed at herself for being weak right now; this trip was about taking care of Brittany and Vickie. She drew her knees to her chest, closed her eyes and counted to ten, taking a breath with each number. But she didn't feel much better, so she started again, faster this time. Soon she was counting furiously and couldn't remember how many times she'd reached ten. She grew dizzier and dizzier.

"Santana?" Vickie's voice floated down the hall.

Santana heard footsteps walking toward her, stopping a few feet away. She lifted her head, placing her palms flat on the floor to ground herself. "I'm fine!" she gasped, closing her eyes and tipping her head back against the wall. She was taking huge breaths through her mouth, chest rising and falling quickly.

"Nurse!" Vickie called, "I need a paper bag!"

Santana heard crumpling paper and felt Vickie press a paper bag against her mouth. The paper bag expanded and contracted with her breathing, which gradually slowed. Soon Santana felt she was coming down from her spinning, landing on the marble floor of the hall.

"I should have warned you what it would be like in there," Vickie murmured as she pulled the bag away and smoothed Santana's hair from her forehead.

"Don't worry about me," Santana said, trying not to gasp.

"It's my job to worry about you," Vickie cooed, handing Santana a paper cup filled with ice-cold water from the nurses' station.

"No it's not," Santana argued, taking a sip of water. "Is Britt okay?"

"She's fine," Vickie assured. "A little shaken, but she's talking to him while he's asleep. She's telling him about your drive here and how you talked to her and held her hand the whole time."

Santana took another big sip. "She's brave," she muttered.

Vickie shrugged the comment off. "Brittany's always been fine with blood and stuff. But you're brave, too."

Santana gave Vickie a dubious look.

Vickie rubbed Santana's knee. "You just got through one helluva panic attack. I had one once, and let me tell you, I know that takes a lot of courage."

So _that's_ what had just happened. Santana was suddenly exhausted, feeling as though she couldn't get up from the floor. She finished her water and sighed, feeling all her muscles let go.

"I'm going to get you another glass of water," Vickie said, concern ringing in her voice and pulling down the corners of her eyes. She came back a moment later and handed Santana her refilled cup. "Do you want me to get Brittany?"

"No!" Santana bristled. "I don't want her to see me like this."

"See you like what?" Vickie frowned, sitting on the floor against the wall next to Santana.

"A weak mess having a… _panic_ attack on the floor…" Santana muttered.

"I think she'd find it endearing," Vickie said gently. "She'd think it was sweet that you care so much about her dad."

Santana shrugged. "But I don't want her to take care of me. She's got her hands full already."

Vickie rubbed Santana's arm as they sat and watched people walk up and down the hall for a few minutes.

"You gonna be okay now, darlin'?" Vickie asked. "I should go back and check on Brittany."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be there in a minute," Santana said, waving her hand through the air, gaze fixed on her lap.

"Take your time. You don't have to go back in if it's too much. He's asleep anyway. Everyone's here and in one piece and we won't have a definite prognosis for a few days."

Santana took a deep breath. "Just give me a minute. I'll come back in."

"Alright. But make sure you're okay first. It's like they say on an airplane: put on your own oxygen mask before attending to anyone else."

Santana contemplated this and nodded. "How are _you_ so calm right now?" she asked.

"Just because my kids are grown doesn't mean I stop being a mom," Vickie said as she got up from the floor, brushing herself off. "When there's a crisis, moms have to be the ones who stay calm and strong for everyone else." As she started back towards Gordon's room, Santana realized exactly where Brittany got her strength.

"Hey Vickie?" Santana called after her.

"Yes, darlin'?"

"Brittany's really lucky to have a mom like you."

* * *

><p>Santana padded up the stairs and down the hall of the Pierce house, holding a glass of water in one hand and a bowl of macaroni and cheese in the other. After her panic attack when they first arrived, Santana had eased herself into the fray of hospital activity, taking breaks when she needed to, volunteering to get food and extra clothing often. She found that by monitoring her own anxiety first, she was able to fall into the pace of the ICU and attend to the needs of Brittany and her mother.<p>

Everyone had been running on coffee and adrenaline for three days, exhausted from long stints at the hospital and confusing conversations with a never-ending stream of doctors and specialists. Vickie was at the hospital at the moment, having insisted Brittany and Santana return to the house to get a good night's sleep. It was quiet here: there were no voices scuffling over a hospital intercom, no monitors beeping, and no gurney wheels squeaking through the hallway. It was peaceful, dark, and solemn.

Santana walked into Brittany's childhood bedroom, setting the food and water on the bedside table. Brittany was sitting on the opposite side of the bed, staring out at the trees illuminated by the streetlight. Her shoulders were slumped and Santana could tell she was completely worn out.

"Hungry, sweetheart?" Santana murmured.

Brittany shook her head and sniffled. Santana crawled onto the bed, sitting behind Brittany and draping one leg on either side of her, hanging off the edge. She wrapped her arms around Brittany, enveloping her.

"What are you thinking about?" Santana asked, keeping her voice low and warm.

Brittany leaned back into her. "Why did this have to happen _now_?" she whimpered. "Everything was just starting to feel normal again."

Santana brushed Brittany's hair behind her ear. "I know, sweetheart… I know," she cooed. "The timing was bad. But the timing is _always_ bad for this kind of thing."

Brittany wiped her face and nodded, relaxing back further into Santana. "I feel like I'll never see my dad again," she blubbered.

Santana said nothing. She knew what Brittany meant: of course she would _see_ her dad again, but he wouldn't be the Gordon they knew before. The person lying in the hospital was a bedraggled and confusing remnant of the stately man he had been just a week earlier. There was no telling when - or if - he would return to his jovial self.

Santana swept the hair away from Brittany's neck and smoothed it over her shoulder. That was the most comforting thing she could do right now. She knew her warmth and steadiness would _help_, but her support alone wouldn't be enough. Santana didn't want Brittany to fall apart again, so she made a suggestion.

"Do you think it would be helpful for you to see Dr. Lisa while we're here?"

Brittany had spoken fondly of her therapist from their time apart, and Santana was hopeful that a few sessions would help Brittany focus on her own needs and grief.

"I already called her," Brittany mumbled.

"Good," Santana murmured, relief washing through her. After a few moments she gave Brittany a squeeze and kissed her ear. "You need to eat, sweetheart."

Brittany nodded and sat up. Santana scooted backwards and Brittany turned so they sat facing each other. Santana reached for the food and spooned up some noodles, holding a bite out. Brittany gave her a tired smile and opened her mouth, leaning forward to take the bite. As she chewed, Santana spooned up some more, holding it out again. Santana fed her a few more bites before offering her the spoon. Brittany took it and ate half the bowl before handing it back to Santana. Santana took several huge bites, cleaning the bowl before setting it back on the table.

Brittany lay down and put her head in Santana's lap. "Will you come with me?" she asked.

"To see Dr. Lisa?" Santana said as she chewed.

"Yeah," Brittany nodded.

"Is that allowed?"

Brittany shrugged. "Guests are allowed to come to sessions once in a while. I want you to meet her. She's amazing."

"Of course I'll go, sweetheart. What would we talk about?" Santana asked, tilting her head to admire the curve of Brittany's ear.

"How to get through this. Together."

Santana bent to kiss Brittany's cheek. "I'm already there."

* * *

><p>Santana gripped the shopping cart with one hand and the grocery list with the other. She read the list, wishing that Brittany's mother were half as organized as her daughter. The bread items were listed next to the cleaning supplies, the produce items were scattered across the list in no particular order, and Santana was <em>pretty<em> sure they didn't carry organic nutritional yeast flakes at Kroger. Whenever Brittany made grocery lists, they were grouped into sections in a logical order, so Santana didn't have to push the cart up each aisle more than once. But Santana cut Vickie the slack she deserved; her husband had just had a stroke, after all.

After ten days in the hospital, Gordon had been transferred to the Pierce house earlier that day. Santana had offered to go to the grocery store to stock up on the foods his dietician had recommended. It was going to be a long, grueling recovery for everyone. The Pierces had hired a home-care nurse to come by twice a day, as well as a speech-language pathologist, and, much to Brittany's chagrin, a physical therapist. Santana was glad Vickie had insisted on hiring someone else; the emotional toll it would have taken on Brittany to work so closely with her father's new physical limitations would have been overwhelming, and Brittany would have blamed herself if he didn't progress to her satisfaction. Vickie had permitted Brittany to interview the physical therapist first, but Santana knew Brittany would be watching like a hawk to make sure Gordon was getting the best care possible.

As Santana squinted to make out Vickie's scribbles on the list, she heard a familiar voice behind her:

"Santana?"

Santana spun around. "Mom!" she gasped in alarm. "Hi." She looked up and down the aisle for her dad, but she realized that was silly; Antonio and Dolores may have become a package deal in her mind, but they certainly didn't do mundane tasks like grocery shopping together. "What are you – what – you're grocery shopping," Santana sputtered.

"Yes… but what are _you_ doing here?"

Santana patted the grocery cart. "Shopping."

Dolores rolled her eyes as if to say, _obviously_. "What are you doing in Lima?" she asked critically.

"Oh, uh… Brittany's family is going through some stuff right now."

"They can't take care of it themselves?" Dolores frowned. The Lopezes and Pierces had met once or twice at parent evenings for Cheerios, and they had been polite in passing, but never friends. Since Antonio didn't work at Lima general, it made sense that he hadn't heard about Gordon's stroke.

Santana stiffened, angry at her mother's insensitivity. "They _could_ take care of it themselves, but I care about them and offered to help," she defended. "Brittany's dad had a stroke."

"_Ay, dios mio_, what happened?" Dolores gasped, putting her hand over her heart.

"We're not sure. He's in his early sixties, but he's in pretty good health and doesn't drink or smoke. So we don't really know why. Sometimes bad things just happen. That's what the doctors said, at least."

"Is he okay?"

"He's paralyzed on the right side of his body and he can't talk. It's been pretty scary and confusing for Brittany and Vickie and Hayley, but things are looking up. He was released from the hospital this morning and we moved him into the downstairs bedroom."

"_Bueno_, _bueno_…" Dolores murmured, seeming to stare through Santana as she gave a few nods.

Santana looked up and down the aisle, wondering how to make a graceful exit.

"You didn't call," Dolores stated. Her face was expressionless, and Santana wondered if it was an accusation or a mere observation.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Santana muttered, looking away as her guilt set in. She had intentionally decided not to call; she didn't want to expose herself or the Pierces to Dolores' scrutiny in the midst of the crisis that had left them with little emotional energy to spare. "We've been really busy."

"Well, when things get less busy, come have dinner with your father and me. I miss our family dinners."

Santana scoffed but tried to make it sound like a chuckle. "Yeah, me too." Part of her hoped her sarcasm hadn't gone over her mother's head.

"There's a very handsome boy who just started his residency in your father's department, maybe I could invite him to come-"

"_No_, mom!" Santana decided right then it was time to stop censoring her life just to make her mother comfortable. She was done simply being tolerated. She tightened her grip on the shopping cart with one hand. "Brittany and I are in a committed, monogamous relationship! This isn't a new concept; we've been together for _eight years_. What don't you understand?"

Dolores looked frantically around them to see if anyone was listening to Santana's tirade. She was relieved to see they were alone in the aisle, but still had a pained expression that begged Santana to lower her voice.

Santana ignored her mother's silent plea. "Even if I weren't with Brittany, I'm not interested in men. That's not going to change, and I'm not going to pretend I'm not offended that you're trying to set me up with a man just so you can feel more comfortable. Brittany has been nothing but kind to you and I'm sick of you being so passive aggressive."

Dolores' expression went from frantic to stunned.

As if on cue, Santana heard Brittany's ringtone sounding from her purse. She took a deep breath to calm herself.

"Hey, baby," she answered. "How was your session?" She listened for a moment. "Aw, good. Hey, I'm still at the store, do you need anything?" There was another pause. "Toothpaste and pumpkin pie mix, got it… I love you too. See you at home." She hung up and stuck the phone in her pocket, looking directly at her mother, daring her to comment.

Dolores avoided eye contact.

"If you want to have dinner with me, Brittany comes too, and you will treat us both with respect and acknowledge us as a couple. Brittany and I are a package deal. Otherwise, I'm not coming over."

Santana knew it was a risky move; she had no intention of bringing Brittany to her parents' house for dinner while the Pierces' lives were in upheaval. But Santana rarely took bets when the odds weren't stacked in her favor.

As Santana had expected, Dolores sucked air in through her nose and said stiffly, "Well, I should get these groceries home. I'm sure your father doesn't want his ice cream to melt."

"Yeah, that would be a tragedy," Santana deadpanned. "Have a good day, mom." She gave Dolores an insincere smile and turned her cart in the opposite direction.

* * *

><p>A week later, Santana sat in the living room reading a book Dr. Lisa had suggested. The silence around her was eerie, and for once the empty birdcages on the wall made sense; it was as if all the chirping and singing had flown out the window the day Gordon had his stroke. She poured herself into a chapter on caretaker fatigue, hoping to find something that would be helpful to Brittany and Vickie. She had taken all her paid vacation from work at once so she could be here with Brittany, and after years of running herself into the ground with school and work, it felt odd to just sit and read with nowhere to go and no deadlines to meet. Aside from the emotional hardship recent events had brought, she rather enjoyed the change of pace.<p>

She heard a hoarse voice cough from down the hall. "Brihh…"

She got up quickly, setting down her book.

"Brihh…"

She padded down the hallway into Gordon's room. The bandages had been taken off his head, but his hair stuck out in uneven patches and he still had some bruising around the incision in his skull. He was looking out the window.

"Hi, Gordon," Santana murmured, walking to the opposite side of the bed so he could see her clearly. "It's Santana. Brittany's at the pharmacy with Vickie. Do you need something?"

Gordon raised a finger toward a glass on his nightstand.

"Water?" Santana asked.

Gordon nodded and Santana filled the glass from a pitcher and held the straw up to Gordon's lips. As Gordon drank, a little dribbled out the right side of his mouth. Santana wiped it up with a cloth as he cleared his throat. "Sss… Sahh…" he slurred.

Santana felt extremely uncomfortable when Gordon tried to speak. She knew he wouldn't get better if he didn't try, but she also knew he must be frustrated that his mouth wouldn't cooperate with his mind. She tried not to fidget as he tried to form words, but when he couldn't get past the first syllable of her name, she took pity on him and decided he could work on speaking another day.

"Do you want to write it down?" she offered.

He gave her a shaky nod. She took a pad of paper off the nightstand, placing it on his lap. She put a pen in his left hand and helped him wrap his fingers around it. Since he couldn't move the right side of his body, he had been trying to write with his left hand, which was very difficult for anyone who had spent the last sixty years writing with their right hand. Santana watched his face as he wrote, wondering what was trapped in his mind that wanted so badly to come out.

Gordon's hand shook as he pressed the pencil down, drawing letters with the focus and determination of a small child. After a minute he lifted the notebook toward Santana. In print so shaky it was barely legible Santana saw the words:

_Take care of her for me._

It felt as if a golf ball was lodged in her throat as she held the paper in her hands. She looked at him, his outline blurring as she fought away tears. She pressed her lips to his forehead. "I will, Gordon. The best I know how."

* * *

><p>Two weeks later, Santana tiptoed into the downstairs bedroom where Gordon was fast asleep. Late afternoon light shone through the blinds onto his bed. Brittany sat in a chair with her back to the door, a book resting open in her lap.<p>

"Hey, sweetheart," Santana whispered.

Brittany was startled awake, her book falling to the floor. "You scared me!" she gasped.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Santana said in a low voice, tucking her hair behind her ears as she bent to pick up Brittany's book.

"'S'okay, I should be awake in case he needs anything," Brittany mumbled, wiping sleep from her eyes with a flat palm. "What's up?"

"I have a few things I want to talk to you about," Santana whispered, not wanting to wake Gordon. She set the book on the bedside table.

"Okay," Brittany murmured.

Santana crouched on the floor in front of Brittany's chair. "Well, first I want to ask you if I can give you my power of attorney."

Brittany frowned. "Just because you're a lawyer doesn't mean you can decide to make me one too." Her eyes twinkled.

Santana knew Brittany was asking what 'power of attorney' meant by playing dumb; she was back to her usual ways, which was a good sign. Santana smiled at her.

"'Power of attorney' means that you get to make decisions for me if I can't make them for myself. Like, if I was in a car accident or had a nervous breakdown or something."

"What kind of decisions?"

"Medical and psychiatric care, how long to keep me on life support, financial decisions, all that fun stuff. And if something _really_ bad happens, you would get to make all those decisions, too."

Brittany's brow furrowed deeper with worry.

Santana rubbed Brittany's knee and murmured, "I know it's not fun to think about, but there's never a good time to discuss a potential crisis. And this-" she gestured to Gordon with her head, "was a wakeup call. I don't want to be unprepared."

Brittany bit her lip. "Yeah, I understand. So what's the paperwork?"

"If I don't have an advanced healthcare directive stating I've given you my power of attorney, my parents get to make my decisions by default. I really don't want that."

"Okay," Brittany nodded. "Of course I'll do it. Do you have paperwork for me?"

"You can keep a copy if you want," Santana shrugged.

"No, I mean so you can make _my_ decisions."

"Oh… Well I didn't want to assume..."

Brittany tilted her head and gave Santana a curious smile. "Of course I want you to do it."

Santana glowed. "Really?"

"Of course. You're smart and you love me more than anyone else in the world. Why _wouldn't_ I pick you?"

Santana gazed up at Brittany for a moment before sighing and putting her head in Brittany's lap. "I wish you were coming with me back to New Haven tonight."

"Me too," Brittany cooed, smoothing Santana's hair. "I'll come home soon, I hope… I don't know if Hayley's going to be able to come home from college to help since the semester is so far underway, so it kind of depends. But I'll come as soon as I can."

"Actually… that's the other thing I wanted to talk to you about," Santana said, lifting her head up. "Can we talk in the living room? I don't want to wake him up."

"Sure." Brittany stood and followed Santana into the living room. "Is everything okay?" she asked as they sat on the couch.

"Yeah, everything's fine. But I've been doing a lot of thinking. I was with your dad the other day and I realized that being here is what's most important to me. Your family needs our help, and I want to be _here_, not in a building full of lawyers or back in our apartment missing you. I really want to take care of you and your family. So… I did some research on my options, and I think I want to leave Kelley & Fischer."

"Santana, no!" Brittany gasped. "You worked _way_ too hard to get there. My dad's not going to need help forever, and we need health insurance. And we have loans and rent to pay..."

"That's just details, Britt."

"Important details! Why not just take a leave of absence?"

"I thought about that, but since I've only been with the company since June, it would be really frowned upon. To be here like I want to be, I'd have to resign."

Brittany frowned, mulling over the dilemma. "But what about our benefits?" she asked. "I mean, what happened to my dad would have been a hundred times worse if he didn't have health insurance…"

"I checked all the paperwork to make sure we'd be covered. Kelley & Fischer would cover us through end of the month, and then we can go on COBRA and get the same coverage out-of-pocket. It's not so much that we can't afford it for a while."

"What about our loans?"

Santana was surprised Brittany was focusing on the details so much, but she had all the answers prepared. "They don't go into repayment until January. Even then, it's a graduated repayment plan so we can afford it on what we've saved from my paychecks for a little while."

"How are we going to pay rent on our place in New Haven, though?"

Santana gave Brittany a reassuring smile. "Our lease was up a few months ago and we've been paying month-to-month. We can move out any time. I asked Sasha and Kelsey if they'd be able to come help move us out this weekend."

Brittany looked shocked and upset. "You told Kelsey and Sasha before _asking_ me?"

"No, no, sweetie," Santana assured, "I wouldn't do that. I asked if they could help us move, but I was really vague about it, just seeing if they were available. They probably assume we just got a nicer place somewhere." Santana ran her hand over Brittany's knee. "I wouldn't go behind your back like that, not after what we've been through this year."

"Thank you," Brittany murmured, her expression softening. "I'm really glad we're talking about it first." She looked at the floor, deep in thought.

"I've really thought seriously about all this. I'm not going to do something impulsive that messes up our future or my ability to take care of you."

Brittany was quiet, looking around the room. Santana couldn't read her expression.

"Would you be okay with me leaving my job?" Santana pried after a moment.

"Well…" Brittany sighed before looking back at Santana. "If I'm being totally honest… I really want you here with me. You've been so helpful and reassuring these past few weeks, and I just feel better getting to sleep in your arms. It makes me feel safer. But I don't feel like I can ask you to stay if it means you have to leave your job. You were _so_ happy when they hired you, I can't believe you're even considering leaving."

Santana shrugged. "It's just a job. When things settle down I'm sure I can find another. I mean, come on, I'm bilingual _and_ I'm a Yale grad…" she smirked. Her expression turned serious again and her voice softened. "This is really hard for everyone, especially you." She clasped Brittany's hand and brought it her lips. "I want to be here. If that means leaving my job, so be it. Right now my priority is taking care of you and your family."

Brittany melted. "Our family," she murmured, cupping Santana's face with both hands.

"Hm?"

Brittany leaned forward to kiss her. "Our family."

"Our family," Santana echoed, grinning ear to ear against Brittany's cheek.

* * *

><p>Two weeks later, Santana sat cross-legged, perched on top of a desk in the downstairs bedroom with a bowl of soup in her lap. Vickie sat in a rocking chair at the foot of the bed holding her bowl, and Brittany sat on a stool by Gordon's side with several cloth napkins on her knee. All four were eating the tortilla soup Santana had spent the afternoon preparing.<p>

"I know this isn't how you planned to spend your twenty-sixth birthday, Santana, but we're _so_ glad you're here," Vickie said, shaking her head over her soup. "And sorry you had to cook your own birthday dinner. It's delicious."

"No problem," Santana cheered, "I actually like cooking, when Britt lets me into the kitchen with her." Santana winked at Brittany, who smiled back. Brittany was feeding Gordon his soup, catching the dribbles with the napkins as they ran down his chin.

"I thank God for you every day, Santana," Vickie murmured, taking a bite.

Gordon grunted from his place at the bed and Santana smiled at him.

Santana was touched by their humble gratitude. She had been surprised back in high school when she learned that the Pierces were religious. From everything she had experienced previously, she thought religious people were pompous and looked down their noses at anyone who didn't practice their particular denomination, not to mention people of other faiths. But Gordon and Vickie seemed to be the best kind of Christians: compassionate, humble people who truly tried to emulate Christ in their day-to-day lives. After seeing and hearing so much hate and intolerance from religious organizations, it was comforting to see the good that religion could do.

"Seriously, S, I don't know what we would've done without you," Brittany said. "You've been like… Joan of Arc or something."

"I've been like a Catholic saint that was burned at the stake?" Santana chuckled.

"No, more like Xena," Vickie stated.

Santana grinned. "You're so hip, Vickie."

"Xena," Gordon slurred with a lopsided grin on his face. The three women turned to look at him with encouraging smiles. His speech was slowly getting better.

"That's right, Gordon," Santana said, tilting her chin up with a laugh. "I will proudly answer to the name of Xena. Only for you, though."

"Take that as a huge compliment, Dad," Brittany said, holding up another bite of soup for him to eat. "She hates nicknames. I call her 'S' sometimes, but I'm the only one that's allowed to do that."

Gordon smiled wider before opening his mouth to take the soup.

"So what are you girls going to do next?" Vickie asked. "Over the next few months we won't be needing as much help. Where will your next adventure be?"

Santana shrugged. "We haven't gotten that far."

"Well, if you think of something you want to do and need some money to get you started, we're happy to help," Vickie offered.

"Thanks. But what's important is being here right now."

They finished their soup quietly, talking a little bit about what they'd heard from Hayley and remarking on the recent change in the weather; winter was definitely on the way.

"Well, it's not much, but I got you a little something to celebrate your birthday," Vickie said. "It's nowhere near what you deserve, but Brittany insisted it was what you'd want."

Santana's eyes darted to Brittany, who was smiling as she took a bite of soup.

Vickie got up from her chair, taking her bowl with her to the kitchen.

"Should I be worried?" Santana asked.

"No," Gordon mumbled.

"You knew about this too, Gordon?" Santana asked.

Gordon nodded, a grin tugging at one side of his mouth.

A minute later Vickie came back into the room, carrying a cake covered in lit candles.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," Vickie cooed, setting the cake on the desk next to Santana. "It's an ice cream cake, since that seems to be our way of celebrating with you."

Santana looked at the cake. Written in purple icing on top were the words _Happy Birthday Santana!_

"I wanted to put 'Happy Birthday Warrior Princess,' but Brittany insisted on just your name," Vickie explained.

Santana felt her cheeks grow warm and a lump rise in her throat. "Either one would have been perfect… I haven't had a family cake since I was… since I was little," she choked.

"Well, consider this the first of many," Vickie said with pride.

Santana shook her head, marveling at her good fortune. Sometimes she was still amazed the Pierces liked her so much. "What good would a warrior princess be without her tribe?" she quipped. She tucked her hair behind her ears and leaned toward the cake.

"Make a wish, sweetie," Brittany reminded.

Santana closed her eyes for a moment. She wished that good health and happiness would come to everyone in the room, Gordon most of all. She smiled before bending low to blow out the candles.


	50. A Change Is Gonna Come

**Chapter 50: A Change Is Gonna Come**

Chapter title song and **soundtrack**: "A Change Is Gonna Come" by Sam Cooke

**A/N: Thank you so much to my betas, Honeyfigsanddarkchocolate and terriblemuriel. They helped with SO much of the development in this chapter.**

* * *

><p>A month later, December 2019<p>

* * *

><p>There was a knock at the Pierce's front door. Santana set the shirt she was folding on top of the basket of clean clothes and went to answer it. She opened the door and caught it with her hand.<p>

She was stunned.

"_Elinor_!" she shrieked.

"Surprise!" Elinor cried.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?" Santana exclaimed in delight, stepping onto the porch to wrap her friend in a big hug.

"I'm in town for Nana's eighty-fifth birthday," Elinor explained, leaning into the hug. "Brittany called me and told me what happened, so I thought I'd drop by and surprise you." She pulled back to look at Santana with a grin.

"Oh my god, this is the best surprise I've had in months! Did she know you were coming? Because she just went to the store…"

"Yeah, she was in on it, I'm just a little earlier than I planned. And I brought you a Christmas tree, because she said you didn't have one yet." Elinor shook the tree, its tip shoulder-height in her fist.

"Aw, that's so sweet!" Santana stepped back, admiring the tree and shivering in the December air. "God, it's _so_ good to see you!"

"Yeah, no kidding. I'm sorry I haven't called. Things have been really busy. The bad friend award goes to Miss Elinor Kelley…"

"That's okay, I knew you'd call if you needed to, and we're doing okay. Come inside, it's freezing out here," Santana beckoned with her head.

Elinor followed her inside, carrying the tree. She hung up her coat while Santana closed the door and gestured to the living room. Elinor carried the tree to the corner of the room, leaving a few pine needles in her wake.

"So how _are_ you?" Elinor asked when the tree was steady on its base. She looked Santana up and down.

"Doing okay, doing okay… It's hard, but things have eased up the past week or so. Gordon's starting to get around by himself a little bit in his wheelchair, and his speech is slowly improving."

"That's great." Elinor surveyed the room, frowning in amusement at the collection of empty birdcages on the wall. "How's Brittany? It's hard to get much out of her on the phone."

"Yeah, she's not really a phone person. It's been hard for her," Santana admitted as she flopped down on the couch. "But she's being such a champ. I haven't seen any signs that she's backsliding, so that's good."

"I'm _so_ glad to hear that. I was worried for her. Is there anything I can do to help either of you?" Elinor asked as she sat on the couch across from Santana.

"Just call her every once in a while. Even if she doesn't say much on the phone, she loves hearing from you."

"Okay, I will. So wait, Britt said you _left_ Kelley & Fischer. What happened?"

"It was the only way to stay here to help with Gordon. I didn't want to leave Britt here by herself, and I really love her parents. So we talked about it and decided to take the risk."

"Aw, sweetie…" Elinor said, pouting in sympathy. "I'm sorry you had to leave your job."

Santana gave a casual shrug. "Being here is more important to me. I kind of feel like this is my family now," she admitted. She hadn't said that out loud before. It felt good to say, so she kept talking. "Sometimes Britt says something like 'mom asked us to pick up dad's prescription,' and it doesn't sound weird to me. But then I think about my _own_ parents and… well, I'd feel bad calling someone else mom and dad. I may not get along with my parents, but it's not like they don't exist. So I don't know…"

Santana suddenly felt guilty for rambling about the complexities of her relationship with Brittany's parents to Elinor, who was single, so she changed the subject. "Whatever, I'll figure it out. Thanks again for the tree," she said, nodding towards it. "Britt will be so excited. She loves to lie on the couch in the dark and stare at the lights."

"Well I brought decorations too – want to start decorating while we wait for her?"

"Sure! I'll make us some cocoa and we can get our Yuletide on."

Santana got up and went to the kitchen while Elinor walked out to her car to retrieve the decorations.

"I feel like I'm missing out on your life, Lopez," Elinor stated as Santana set two steaming mugs of cocoa on the coffee table. Elinor opened a box of lights and began unwinding them from the cardboard holder. "Is it weird being back in Lima?"

"Eh, it's not so bad. It's a nice change of pace for now, but I'm sure we'll move once things lighten up."

"Have you run into people you knew in high school?"

"No, I think most of them moved away for college and didn't come back. I _did_ run into my mom in the grocery store about a month ago, and _that_ was awkward," Santana said as she rifled through the bag of ornaments.

"You didn't tell her you were in town?" Elinor said, almost giggling.

"No… which makes me sound like a bad daughter, but within two minutes of talking she was trying to set me up with the cute new male resident at my dad's practice."

"Jeez… she still doesn't acknowledge Brittany at _all_?"

"Neither of my parents do…" Santana sighed. She didn't like to think about it much, so she changed the subject. "So what's going on with _your_ job?" she asked as she ripped open the other box of lights.

"I'm working for state assemblywoman Marcía Hernandez."

"How'd you go from law to politics?" Santana asked as she crouched to plug the lights in. The scent of the pine needles was starting to meander through the air, making her inhale just a bit deeper than usual.

"Oh, I'm still doing legal work. I'm part of a consulting team working on a bill that would legalize gay marriage in Ohio," Elinor said with a smug grin.

Santana's jaw dropped. "Jesus Christ, El, how'd you get _that_ gig?"

"A consultant that did some work at Walters & Associates hooked me up with the bill's benefactor and I just couldn't say no."

"Well _obviously_," Santana scoffed as she stretched the kinks out of the glowing string of fresh lights. "You'd have to be an _idiot_ to turn that down."

Elinor stopped weaving the string of lights through the branches of the tree and brought her palm to her forehead. "Oh my gosh!" she cried, "I'm such a dummy. You'd be _perfect_!"

"For what?" Santana frowned.

"Would you be interested in joining the consulting team?"

"_What_?" Santana cried, dropping the strand of lights. "Would I be _interested_? In helping draft a bill that would _legalize_ gay marriage?" Her head was spinning.

"We're looking for another legal mind. Your background speaks for itself."

"My _background_? I'm six months out of Law school and I have about five minutes of professional experience!"

Elinor shook her head and turned back to the tree. "Neil wouldn't care. He'd sit with you for five minutes and hire you on the spot."

"Who's Neil?" Santana asked, watching as Elinor continued threading lights through the branches.

"The lobbyist who's funding the bill and paying the team's salaries. He's awesome, but he's also the most intimidating, eccentric old man I've ever met. He spent his life as a high-profile defense attorney for all sorts of deranged criminals. He came out in his mid-fifties and in his old age he's decided to spend all his money fighting for gay rights. Basically, he's the best kind of private-sector lobbyist because his motivations are personal, not economic. He's great to work for because he knows what it's like to be a greenie like you and me. The pay is about the same as Kelley & Fischer, but the work is way more independent and it's temporary. He doesn't care about your experience as much as he cares about passion and hard work. So you'll instantly be his favorite. I _know_ he'd hire you."

"Oh my god…" Santana was reeling. "I'd love to, El, but I'm not a member of the Ohio State Bar…" she began, trying to sort out the litany of things running through her mind.

"C'mon, Lopez, you know Ohio has Bar reciprocity with Connecticut," Elinor smirked. "What did they _teach_ you at Yale? Besides, it wouldn't matter for doing research and drafting the bill. There's no litigation and you're not technically providing legal services. You're just using your knowledge of the law to write a solid bill. All you'd have to do is familiarize yourself with the Ohio legislative system and a few bills that were essentially precursors, but that's about all the prep you'd need. Whataya say?"

Santana shook her head, overwhelmed at the possibility. "Oh god... I mean _hell yes_, I want to!" The swirl of thoughts calmed when she remembered the thing that always grounded her. "But I need to talk to Britt. It's a family decision."

"Of course. Well, the offer stands, but not for long. Right now we're just prepping, but we need to fill the spot before we go into full-drafting mode. Talk to Brittany and let me know."

"I will!" Santana promised.

They continued decorating the tree while Elinor asked questions about Gordon's recovery. She was curious about every detail – what sort of exercises did he do with his speech-language pathologist? How was his motor control? Did he ever get angry and frustrated? Santana knew these were things only a true friend would be interested in or think to ask.

The tree was half decorated when Brittany walked through the door fifteen minutes later with groceries in both arms.

"Hey Britt!" Santana greeted, placing an ornament of a bird on a branch about waist-height. "Guess who's here!"

"Hey!" Brittany cried, setting down groceries. "Elinorrrrr!" she sang, running to give her a hug.

"Hey sweetie," Elinor cooed, rubbing Brittany's back. "How are you?"

"Good, good," Brittany clucked as she pulled away. "Trying to stay warm out there. Like your surprise, S?" she asked with a smug grin.

"The best one I've had in months," Santana smiled back before giving Brittany a peck on the cheek.

"Hang on, let me put away the groceries," Brittany said as she walked to the kitchen.

"Want some help?" Santana offered.

"No, I got it."

Elinor and Santana continued decorating while Brittany puttered around in the kitchen, putting away the food and arranging cookies on a plate. She brought the cookies into the living room, stuffing one into her mouth on the way.

"So B, did sly fox Elinor here tell you about her new job?" Santana asked.

Brittany shook her head, taking another bite of cookie.

Elinor grinned. "I'm working with state assemblywoman Marcía Hernandez drafting a bill to legalize gay marriage in Ohio."

"Wow, that's _amazing_!" Brittany exclaimed, pausing with a cookie halfway to her lips. "How'd you get _that_ gig?"

"A guy that came to do some consulting at Walters & Associates hooked me up. He thought I'd be a good match for the project and set me up with an interview. His name's Denton and he's spent his career doing LGBT policy work. He's pretty much one of my favorite people in the world now."

"You must be _creaming_ yourself with jealousy, S," Brittany said, putting the rest of the cookie in her mouth.

"What, that she has a new best friend or that she's helping legalize gay marriage?" Santana asked with a grin.

"Both," Brittany smirked.

"I just offered Santana a job on the consulting team that's drafting the bill," Elinor said, raising an eyebrow in Santana's direction.

"WHAT?" Brittany cried, eyes wide. "Oh my god, Santana, when do you start?"

"It's not an actual job offer," Santana hedged, shooting Elinor a pointed look. "She just thinks her boss would like me."

"It's as good as a job offer," Elinor countered, handing Brittany a tuft of tinsel.

"Santana, you _have_ to take it!" Brittany insisted, holding the tinsel tight in her fist like a pom-pom.

"We'll talk about it later," Santana dodged, adjusting the placement of an angel-shaped ornament.

"What is there to _talk_ about?" Brittany asked, astonished.

"We'll talk about it _later_," Santana repeated, shooting Brittany a look.

"Actually, I have to go…" Elinor said, sensing the tension. "Don't wanna be late for the raucous event that will be my grandma's birthday party... But seriously, Santana, I want you to at least meet with Neil and ask him about the position."

"She'll meet with him," Brittany promised, shooting a look back at Santana.

After Elinor left, Brittany turned to Santana. "I can't believe you're _hesitating_ on this!" she exclaimed.

"It's not a sure thing, B," Santana said gently. She saw how excited Brittany was and didn't want to crush her joy; this year of all years they needed joy around Christmas.

"Elinor made it sound like it was," Brittany argued. "She wouldn't lie to you. I can't believe you right now. You have an opportunity to make history and change so many people's lives – are you seriously not interested?"

"No, of _course_ I'm interested. If things were different I would jump at the chance. But I left Kelley & Fischer for a good reason and I don't want to take another job too soon. There will be others."

"Not like this," Brittany countered.

"But you're my priority, B." Santana's voice was quiet as she tried to bring Brittany back into the calm, Christmasy feeling of the living room. The lights glowed warmer as the sun drew low in the cloudy afternoon sky. Santana took a step toward Brittany, giving her a gentle smile as she took some of the tinsel from her hand and began draping it over the branches.

Brittany's stance softened and she joined Santana in putting the finishing touches on the tree. "I think we could manage while you worked."

"But I would have to move to Columbus."

"We'd figure it out. You could come back on the weekends."

"That's still a lot of time apart, and I don't like being away from you. Now that we're back on track, I don't want to do anything that would mess things up."

"It won't mess things up. And this job is temporary."

"Yeah, but it's time we don't get back. I just worry something will go wrong or I'll get really frustrated."

"Why, from being around Easy-on-the-Eyes Elinor all day?" Brittany teased as she knelt to place tinsel around the bottom of the tree.

"No," Santana chuckled. Brittany's humor always relaxed her. She sat down to help decorate the lower branches. "I just don't like the idea of living apart. I'd probably go a little crazy."

"You won't go crazy, don't worry. But if you do, I've got that advanced healthcare directive that says I can have you committed. You'd probably look hot in a straightjacket. So really, either way you'll be fine."

Santana laughed. She welcomed these moments of levity; they had been few and far between since they had returned to Lima. "You think Elinor's hot, huh?"

Brittany pursed her lips to conceal a smile.

"Oh my god, you totally do!" Santana giggled, pointing to the look on Brittany's face.

"Hey, all I said was she's easy on the eyes," Brittany defended, letting her lips spread into a smile. "And don't change the subject. You're _taking_ this opportunity."

Santana scooted to face Brittany. "But what about your dad?" Santana asked, hesitating to return to the heaviness of their present circumstances.

"He'll be fine," Brittany assured. "He's obviously got a long recovery ahead, but the hardest part is behind us. And you and I will be fine, too. Better than fine." She settled on the floor next to Santana, resting her head on her shoulder. "The past few months have been hard, but in terms of _us_, they've been..."

"Beautiful," Santana whispered as she gazed at the tree. She slipped her hand into Brittany's, lacing their fingers together.

"Yeah," Brittany smiled. They looked at the tree, thinking about all the work they'd done despite the turmoil around them. The sun had set and the tree cast a golden glow on their faces, kindling the connection they felt to each other. .

After a while, Santana stuck her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout and started whining, "But I don't want to be _away_ from you so much..."

Brittany smiled and lifted her head, kissing Santana on the forehead before moving to pick up the stray pine needles that trailed from the tree to the door. "We'll work it out. It's only two hours away. I'd come visit as much as I could, and you could come back here on weekends… we'd make it fun. Maybe we'd even pick a cheap motel in the middle where we can have quick, dirty sex on weeknights once in a while." Brittany winked and Santana smirked in approval. "Besides," Brittany continued. "This will give me time to work on myself and figure out what's next after dad progresses a little more." She pulled her phone out of her pocket. "Call Elinor right now and tell her you want that interview."

Santana shook her head and smiled, standing up and taking the phone from Brittany. "I love you _so_ much right now."

"You better," Brittany teased. "I'm awesome."

* * *

><p>Santana sat in the corner booth of the restaurant. As Elinor had instructed, she'd ordered a whiskey on the rocks for Neil and a glass of white wine for herself. At precisely the moment the church bells down the street chimed three-o'clock, Neil walked in. When Elinor had said he was eccentric, she hadn't been lying; he was dressed in a gray plaid three-piece suit with a pocket-watch chain stretched across the front. He wore a bowler hat and carried a cane, and if he had been chubbier and wearing a monocle, Santana would have mistaken him for the man on the Monopoly box.<p>

"Good afternoon, Mr. Manning," Santana said, sliding to her feet and extending her hand.

"Afternoon," Neil said gruffly, ignoring her outstretched hand.

"Thank you so much for taking the time to meet with me."

"I don't have much time," he grumbled, sitting and taking a sip of his whiskey. "What do you have for me?"

"Here's my résumé," Santana offered, handing the piece of paper across the table.

"I don't need your résumé," Neil said, swatting it away. "Tell me your story."

"Well… I graduated Summa Cum Laude from Boston College with a major in International Relations and a Pre-Law minor. I went to law school at Yale and graduated last spring, after which I went to work for a few months at Kelley-"

"I'm bored," Neil interrupted. "I've heard this story at least a hundred times, probably a thousand. Tell me _your_ story. Why are you here?"

Santana was anxious, but she sat up straight and folded her hands on the table. "Well…" she began.

"Out with it, now."

"Because I really believe in what the bill is trying to do."

"_Do_ you?"

"Absolutely. I'm amazed it's taken so long for any government official in Ohio to get on this. It's been legal in Connecticut, Massachusetts, New York and Iowa for over a decade."

Neil eyed her for a moment, judging whether she was being completely honest. After a moment he gave a stiff nod and grunted, "Go on."

"Okay… I grew up in Lima, about two hours north of here."

"Tell me about your parents."

Santana wondered what kind of strange interview process he was putting her through. She decided to go with concrete answers: "My dad's a doctor and my mom's a hospital administrator."

"Are they still married?"

"Yes."

"Happily?" Neil eyed her and she knew better than to lie.

"Um… I think they just kind of exist side-by-side. But they're not miserable."

"Do you get along with them?"

"Not really."

"Why?"

Santana paused. Was it okay to talk about something so personal with this strange old man? She swallowed. "Because they don't like that I'm gay."

Neil said nothing.

Santana didn't know what to do, so she continued: "So… I went to public school, where I met my girlfriend Brittany. We've been together for eight years now."

"Do you love her?" The question was so austere, it sounded as if it was completely removed from the concept of love.

"More than anything."

"Does she support you working for Marcía?"

"Absolutely."

Neil paused. His gruff expression shifted as he leaned forward to ask his next question. "What's your favorite thing about law, Miss Lopez?"

Santana thought for a moment. "There are lots of things I love about it. But the thing that keeps me going is knowing that I can affect change for people. I specialized in administrative law, which makes me a great candidate for this position. There's a lot that goes under the radar in our government, so helping vindicate a wrongdoing feels great. I like having that power, even if I have to twist things to see justice come about. The legal system is far from foolproof, and there are lots of shades of gray. I like getting those ambiguities sorted out for people who can't do it themselves."

"Could you ever work for a client who you knew was in the wrong?"

Santana paused again. She knew Neil had spent his career as a criminal defense attorney and had probably defended more guilty clients than innocent. "I _could_. But I don't know that I'd do it if I had a choice. I know I'll have to at some point, and that will be an interesting challenge. My previous employer wouldn't have given me any difficult cases that soon out of school."

Neil nodded. "Defending a guilty person eats away at your soul."

Santana didn't quite know what to say to that. It was as unexpected as if he had burst into song at the table.

"So, Miss Lopez, do you have any questions for me?"

Santana quickly composed herself. She could politely talk about business all day, but Elinor had said he liked someone who wasn't afraid to challenge him. "Elinor already told me the logistics. But I'm curious why you're paying a bunch of people to write a bill that an assemblyperson would usually write themselves."

Neil's expression remained stern and unmoving. "I want the bill to be watertight. I'm old and I don't have the time or patience for this bill to go through several rounds on the assembly floor before it moves to the state senate, where it will probably get shuffled around a few _more_ times. We need to get it right the first time."

"Hm. So is that the _only_ reason you're paying the salaries of everyone on the drafting committee except Assemblywoman Hernandez? Because it sounds suspicious to me." Santana knew she sounded more than a bit critical, and that was intentional.

Neil paused, his eyes going blank as if someone had cracked open his exterior and his response was to play dead. After a moment, he began speaking. His voice was completely different, as if all the gravel from earlier had been swept away. "I spent my life taking money from criminals, Miss Lopez. I let many evil people walk free for personal gain and to boost my reputation as a ruthless litigator. I made _buckets_ of money. I don't fancy myself a Robin Hood now, but two years ago I had an… awakening, if you will. I had a coronary that required an immediate heart transplant. Faced with my own mortality, I realized I had let so much bad continue to wander about, and yet had done nothing to compensate for it. All I had were my possessions and my reputation for being a bully. Like I said, defending a guilty person eats away at your soul. I think my heart was telling me something. I consider funding this bill an act of atonement for all the harm I've done."

Santana was stunned. This was a completely different man than the one she had sat down with ten minutes prior. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was reminded of the person _she_ used to be; callous, resentful, scared, and alone.

"That's… that's an amazing story, Mr. Manning."

Neil huffed, zipping back into his shell. "Alright then. Be at Marcía's office at nine a.m. sharp the Monday after New Year's. I'll fax the paperwork directly to the office." He stood quickly, tipping his hat. "Good day, Miss Lopez."

Santana didn't quite know what to think. She sat there for a moment before her face cracked in a satisfied grin. She reached forward, taking a sip of her wine before pulling out her phone to call Brittany.

* * *

><p>Carlos held his arms out in welcome as Santana entered the lobby of the hotel. He was clean-cut and handsome in his hotel manager's outfit, with jet-black hair freshly trimmed and parted on the side. His dark eyes sparkled just like Santana's. They could have passed for twins, had they not been ten years apart.<p>

"Prima Santanita!" he crowed. "Bienvenido!"

"Hi Carlos!" Santana greeted, accepting his hug. "How are you?"

"Better, now that you're here. We missed you at the family Christmas party."

"Yeah… I couldn't really stomach that this year. I wanted to spend the day with Britt's family, so that's what I did. My mom was pissed, but whatever. She's the reason I didn't want to go in the first place."

"I understand," Carlos nodded. He knew from her stories how overbearing and critical Dolores could be. "Well, I'm excited to have you staying with me for the next few months. That's way better than seeing you for a few hours at the Christmas party."

"Definitely," Santana agreed. "Am I still allowed to steal food from the kitchen?"

"Claro que si."

"Awesome. Do I need to check in?"

"No, no. You stay for free, always. I can't give you the penthouse, and this time you're towards the back by the ice machine, but it's still one of the top floors, and there's a nice bed and all the premium channels. Plus, you know whenever you get bored you can come hang out with me."

"Perfect. Are you sure you can get away with this? Because I could always just get a month-to-month lease…"

"Nonsense. When you're in Columbus, you stay here. Consider this my contribution to supporting the bill."

"Well thank you. It's more than enough."

"I disagree, but here's your key card. Do you want me to help you with your suitcase?"

Santana shot him an amused look. Her suitcase was small and on wheels – it would be ridiculous to ask for help.

"Okay, okay, just kidding…" Carlos laughed, holding up his hand. "Go get settled in. I'll send something up in the morning for breakfast."

"You don't have to do that," Santana said graciously. "I can grab something at the coffee shop on my way out."

"When you're here, you're my guest," Carlos argued. "You get breakfast every morning, dinner every night, and you buzz me if you need anything, understand?"

Santana gave him an exasperated, grateful look. "You're awesome, Carlos."

"It's a Lopez thing."

Santana grinned and give him their signature fist bump and high five combination before turning toward the elevator.

"Santana," Carlos called, his tone more serious. She turned back to him. "You're doing a great thing, you know. I'm proud of you."

"Thank you," Santana smiled. "Goodnight!"

Santana went up the elevator and rolled her suitcase into her room, surveying the familiar furniture. She had stayed in her cousin's hotel many times over the years, though always with Brittany, and usually just for a weekend. This time she would be spending her weeknights here – alone - for the foreseeable future: until the bill passed or Neil grew tired of paying her salary. She knew Carlos would come keep her company once in a while, but the room still seemed lonely. She was glad her workdays would be long and she would be returning to Lima to spend her weekends with the Pierces. She had grown so close to them over the past few months, and she wasn't sure she was comfortable being away while they were still so focused on rehabilitating Gordon.

She took off her shoes and lay down on the bed, taking out her phone. She called Brittany and stared at the pristine white ceiling as the phone rang.

"Hey baby!" Brittany chirped.

"Hey sweetheart…" Santana sighed.

"You sound sad…" Brittany noted tenderly. "Aren't you excited about your first day tomorrow?"

"Oh, I'm excited… I'm just still not sure about being away from you so much. I feel just like I did when I had to go back to New Haven to move out of our apartment. I felt bad leaving your family when you needed so much help and I was anxious and moody and a snapped at Kelsey and Sasha... I had trouble sleeping, since I hadn't been apart from you since you came back."

"Aw, sweetie…" Brittany cooed. "I miss you too. But don't worry, the weekend will be here before you know it. I'll make your favorite butternut squash soup for dinner."

"How's your dad?" Santana asked as she played with the hem of her shirt.

"He's good. Nothing's changed since you left a few hours ago," Brittany said. Santana could hear her smile.

"You know I'll come right back if you need me, right?"

"I know. Don't worry, everyone's going to be fine... just take some deep breaths and focus on the exciting part. Do you know anything about your coworkers?"

"Well, aside from Elinor, I only know that Marcía has a reputation for being blunt and no-nonsense, and there's Denton, Elinor's friend. But other than that I have no idea what to expect."

"Do you get an office?"

"I don't know."

"Well, I can't wait to hear about it. Hang on, dad's writing something for you…" Brittany paused. "He says he knows you'll be great and you'll make us proud."

Santana smiled. "Thanks, Gordon."

Santana heard some scuffling on the other end of the line before Brittany's voice came back. "Well, I love you, sweetheart, and I'm so excited for you. Mom wants help taking down the Christmas tree now, but I'll be waiting for your call tomorrow."

"Okay," Santana smiled. "I love you too. Say hi to your mom for me."

"I will. Goodnight!"

"Goodnight."

Santana hung up and let out a heavy sigh. She wished it were easier for them to talk on the phone – it had never been Brittany's strong suit. She felt guilty for not being there, even if they said they'd be fine. She changed into her pajamas, brushed her teeth and slipped into the unfamiliar bed. She flipped through the channels for a few minutes, not finding anything of interest. She turned out the light and spent the night tossing and turning, unsure if she had made the right decision.

* * *

><p>Santana arrived at Marcía's office the next morning to discover she would be sharing an office with Elinor and Denton. There were computers in each corner, but she could tell they would be spending most of their work hours sitting at the conference table in the middle. Santana liked this setup; it gave her an opportunity to work face-to-face with people who had far more professional experience than she had.<p>

After an initial meeting with Marcía – who was as direct and humorless as Elinor had described – Santana spent the morning being briefed on the current status of the bill. It was being modeled after the historic California Assembly Bill 19 that had passed both the Assembly and the State Senate in California twelve years prior, only to be vetoed by Arnold Schwarzenegger, the Governor at the time. Elinor and Denton had some ideas about how to make their bill, Ohio State Assembly bill 61, even stronger, and in Neil's words, 'watertight.' Santana grew more and more enthusiastic about the work as the morning went on.

As they broke for lunch, Denton invited Santana and Elinor to join him down the street for a sandwich. Santana accepted, but Elinor declined, saying she had some personal calls to make.

"So how'd you meet your husband?" Santana asked, nodding towards Denton's ring as she took a bite of her sandwich.

"My wife and I met in grad school," Denton smiled.

"Oh, sorry," Santana said. "I just assumed…"

"It's okay, everyone does," Denton assured. "And it's kind of a fair assumption. My whole career has been in LGBT policy."

"Really? Why?"

"I don't know. I had some gay friends in college and it infuriated me to see how they were treated as second-class citizens. After grad school I moved to Cleveland and started doing LGBT policy work out of a little hole-in-the-wall nonprofit. Best seven years of my life."

"Wow, you've been doing policy work for seven _years_?" Santana said in awe. "You look so young."

"Ten, actually, but it feels like five minutes," Denton dismissed. "I don't think I'll ever get tired of it. I learn something new every day."

"So why did you move here, if you loved it so much?"

"I moved to Columbus to do consulting work three years ago. My wife and I were expecting a baby and were ready for some financial security. She had a job offer with state senator Grossman."

"I can understand that," Santana nodded. "Money doesn't make the world go round, but it sure helps you sleep at night."

"Amen, sister," Denton said, raising his water bottle.

"So what's with you and Elinor both leaving Walters & Associates to come work for Marcía?"

"Ha! Well I'm sure you heard about the whole schism at work with Jordan."

"No…" Santana drawled.

"Elinor came to work there last July, when she and Jordan were still on. But when that went up in flames, I hooked her up with Neil. She made a good impression on him and the rest is history. I was just glad to get her out from under Jordan's torment at work."

"What?"

Denton looked at Santana with surprise. "You didn't know? Jordan was Elinor's boss."

"Oh Jesus Christ, who thought _that_ was a good idea…" Santana said, bringing her hand to her face.

"Elinor and Jordan, apparently. It was, in Elinor's words, a hot mess. But I'd say she's doing all right now. The drama seems to have settled."

"Thank god…" Santana muttered. "For someone so calm and stable, it's shocking how much drama is always swirling around her like a flock of coked-up seagulls."

Denton chuckled. "She'll settle down one of these days," he assured. "She's a catch. Someday someone will see that."

"I should have Britt find someone for her," Santana mused.

"Who's Britt?"

"She's my better half. We've been together since high school. She's amazing at matching people up."

"What's the coolest match she's made?"

"Well, me and her, obviously, but also our friends Kelsey and Sasha. They dated for two years in college and got back together again about a year ago. And then about six months ago Britt went to visit her sister Hayley, who's in her first year at Wesleyan. They were in the campus coffee shop and she told Hayley to go talk to some guy sitting across the room. Hayley's been dating him ever since. I have _no_ idea how Britt does it."

"Sounds like she has a gift."

"Indeed she does."

"Well if Brittany can find someone for Elinor, that would be great. She deserves someone wonderful."

"That might be tricky since Britt's in Lima taking care of her family right now. Her dad had a stroke a few months ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Taking care of an ill parent is _so_ hard."

"It really is. I was torn about coming to work for Marcía. I still feel pretty guilty about leaving Britt there… but she was so excited about this job, she said they'd be fine and pretty much called Neil herself to schedule my interview."

"Then try not to beat yourself up. What you're doing here could make life easier for a lot more people than just her family."

"Yeah, I know… I know that's why she pushed me to do it. That and she knows how much I like law."

"She wants you to keep doing what you love. That's a sign of a truly loving person."

Santana gave a sad smile and nodded. She could see why Elinor liked Denton so much: he was genuine, perceptive, and hopeful. She hoped they would become good friends.

* * *

><p>A few weeks later, Santana returned to her room and threw her briefcase onto the bed and burst into tears. She knew she'd made a mistake, but Marcía's criticism had been unduly harsh. She was exhausted, hungry, and coming back to her empty hotel room just wasn't the same as coming home to Brittany or the Pierce household. All she wanted to do was curl into Brittany and forget about the bill entirely. Hot tears stung her face as she debated driving the two hours back to Lima, but she was too tired and knew she'd have to get up at four in the morning to drive back.<p>

She pulled out her phone and called Brittany. It rang for a minute before going to voicemail. She called Vickie and the same thing happened. She was just about to call Elinor when her phone started ringing in her hand. She was surprised to see it was her parents' caller ID. Against her better judgment, she took a few deep breaths and wiped her tears before answering.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Santana," her father answered.

"Hi, dad," Santana sniffled. "It's been a while."

"Yeah, I know… I don't think I've talked to you since before Christmas. I miss you, pumpkin."

It had been a long time since he called her 'pumpkin.' Santana felt guilty, but still didn't completely regret her decision to spend the holidays with the Pierces. "Thanks... How are you?"

"I'm okay. Just thinking about you and wondering how the Pierces are doing."

"They're doing pretty well, considering. Thanks for asking."

"How are _you_, Santana?"

"I'm okay..." Santana sighed. "I'm actually in Columbus right now. I got a new job here."

"Oh really? What happened to Kelley & Fischer?"

Santana realized how little she'd shared with her father about the recent events in her life. She felt bad for that. He had never made her angry the way her mother had. But as someone who devoted himself to his work, she wasn't sure he would understand her priorities.

"I had to leave Kelley & Fischer so I could take care of Brittany and her family. I know I made the right decision."

"I understand."

Santana was surprised. She had expected to have to defend herself more. "Yeah… I really care about the Pierces."

"They're good people. So what's your new job?"

Santana was surprised again by his kind words. She wondered if she'd misjudged him. Her voice shook as she started explaining. "Um… I'm helping assemblywoman Marcía Hernandez draft a bill that we hope to have pass through state senate and get signed into law in the next year or so. It's a civil rights bill." She thought vagueness was probably best when describing the bill's contents. She couldn't handle any criticism tonight.

"When did you start?"

"About a month ago…" Her voice trembled and she pursed her lips to keep from hiccupping.

"You sound sad, Santana," Antonio noted.

Santana swallowed, trying to push her guilt and unhappiness away. She loved the way her dad said her name. It reminded her of how gentle and calm he always was. He didn't try to disguise his accent like usual, and put just a bit more emphasis on the middle syllable than most people.

"I just had a bad day," Santana mumbled.

"Tell me," Antonio invited warmly.

Santana sighed, relieved she could unload, even if it was to her dad. "Well… it was my fault. I made a mistake and my new boss yelled at me. I know I was wrong, but I guess with all the stress with the Pierces and being so new to politics… I took it harder than I should have."

"What happened?"

"I messed up the formatting on this one section of a document before I made a bunch of copies. I know it was careless, but at least someone caught it before it was sent to our lobbyist. I think I'm just overreacting."

"What did your boss say to you?"

Santana took in a shaky breath. "She said I might as well go back to Lima and work at Walmart if I was gonna be so careless."

"What did you say this woman's name was?"

"Marcía Hernandez."

"Where's she from?"

"Her parents are from Puerto Rico, but she was born here."

"Ah… so you know why she yelled at you."

"No…" Santana frowned, bewildered. What did being from Puerto Rico have to do with her boss yelling at her?

"She wants you to be a shining example of our people, Santana," he said sweetly. "She has higher expectations for you because she hopes your generation will make a big difference for us. You should take it as a compliment she thinks you have that much potential, querida."

Growing up in Lima, Santana hadn't had many Latino mentors, let alone Puerto Rican. Aside from her parents, she had never been in a situation where someone so blatantly – and perhaps unfairly – expected her to be an example of her heritage.

"I… didn't think of that. I guess – I guess maybe it is a compliment. Somehow." Santana started to relax. She wasn't worried she would start to cry while her dad was on the line anymore.

"I remember the same thing happening to me in medical school."

"Really?"

"Uh huh. My first psychopharmacology professor was from Nicaragua and always graded me harsher than the rest of the class, who were almost all white or Asian. I spent so much time being angry about it. Then your mother told me to take it as a compliment, and suddenly it was much easier to do the work."

Santana hummed and there was a moment of silence as Santana let the thought sink in.

"So how are other things? Is Brittany there with you?"

Santana was surprised he had asked about her personal life. "No, she's still with her parents. Everything's fine though. We're good."

"I'm glad to hear that. I was worried about you when we came to your graduation last year. You seemed so sad and lost without her."

Santana was stunned. At the time she had told her dad that Brittany was at a conference, and he hadn't indicated that he knew she had actually left. "You _knew_?" she asked.

"Of course. But I knew you weren't ready to talk about it."

Santana was again surprised at how well her father knew her. "Oh… well, things are great now. Better than great. I mean, obviously we wish things were better with Gordon and she could be here with me, but she and I are going strong." She almost said 'I go back to Lima every weekend to be with her,' but she realized that indicated how often she bypassed her own family for the Pierces. She didn't want to hurt his feelings, so she remained vague. "We only get to spend our weekends together for now, but once the bill is done things will go back to normal."

"That's good. I want you to be happy, and I see how happy she makes you."

This was the first time Antonio had ever expressed vague support for her relationship with Brittany. It was overwhelming. Santana felt the heat on her cheeks from earlier cool, replaced by softer, more tender tears as her chest tightened. "… Really?" she squeaked.

"Por supuesto, mi'ja. No one makes you calm or happy quite like Brittany."

"Thanks… I- I don't know what to say…" Santana sputtered.

"Then say nothing."

That was Antonio's motto: _if you don't know what to say, say nothing_. In her teenage years, she was baffled by it, but as her own sharp tongue got her into trouble more and more, she started to understand the wisdom – not that she'd been able to put it into practice. Santana had often wondered what weighed in his mind as he watched people frantically move around him. He always seemed to be deep in thought when things were tense, and despite the fact that he'd raised her, she couldn't read his face. She imagined whatever inner peace he had was the secret to his success as a physician as well as the longevity of his marriage to Dolores.

Santana was about to ask how her dad stayed so calm when things were stressful when her father spoke. "I think Brittany is a wonderful girl. I hope you hang on to her."

Santana became even more teary-eyed, feeling her throat close. She swallowed, hoping to get a few words out. "Thanks… I- I will." She started to sniffle, no longer able to keep quiet.

Always uncomfortable with displays of emotion, Antonio eased away from the conversation. "Well I'd better go. Your mother wants to watch Jeopardy together and I've already made enough excuses to get out of it this week. Time to pay my dues. But you can always call me if Ms. Hernandez gives you a hard time."

"Okay, I will. I… I love you, dad," she stammered.

Santana could hear her father smile. "Goodnight, Santana."

"Night."

Santana hung up the phone, her hand trembling as she held it to her chest. She was overwhelmed by his gentleness. She felt like she was six again and he had just scooped her up from a tumble off her bike and kissed her scraped knee, blaming the ground for its roughness. She let a few tears fall before getting up to change into her pajamas and brush her teeth. The pillow of the strange bed felt softer that night, and she slept peacefully, dreaming that she was sitting in the Pierces' living room eating ice cream cake.


	51. Lady

**Chapter 51: Lady**

Chapter title and **soundtrack**: "Lady" by Lenny Kravitz.

**A/N: Thank you to my beta terriblemuriel!**

**I hope you enjoy! If you do, please let me know and I'll include more of this in the future ;)**

* * *

><p>February 2020<p>

* * *

><p>Santana drove down the main road of a dumpy little town called Bellefontaine, the halfway point between Columbus and Lima. Brittany had texted her an address that afternoon after Santana had complained that she was having a stressful day at work. Santana looked at the address again and frowned. It didn't seem right. She drove another few blocks and saw the address was a motel. Brittany was standing in the parking lot leaning against her parents' car, wearing a long coat. Her hair was pulled back in a high, messy ponytail and her face was made up with dark eyeliner and bright red lipstick. Her heels were at least three inches tall. When she saw Santana's car approach, she smiled and removed her coat, revealing a short skirt and a cropped leather jacket. Santana grinned as she pulled into a parking space. This was going to be good.<p>

Santana turned off the engine and got out. "Hi," she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Did Andre send you?" Brittany asked, looking Santana up and down.

"Um… yes?" Santana responded.

"Awesome." Brittany spat out her gum and gestured for Santana to follow her, swaying her hips as she walked toward one of the rooms. She unlocked the door, then turned back to Santana.

"You ready for a good time?" she said with a smirk.

"Definitely."

As Brittany opened the door, Santana glimpsed a single bed in the middle of a room with all the standard hotel furniture around it: a shabby chair with worn upholstery, an old TV, a lamp, and a scuffed dresser. The décor was somewhat dated, but the sheets were pressed and the towels folded crisply. It wasn't the Ritz, but she wasn't worried there would be bugs.

Brittany pushed Santana through the door, shutting and locking it behind them. She forcefully unbuckled Santana's belt.

"I feel like I should know your name first," Santana said with a grin.

"That's part of the fun," Brittany purred, sliding the belt out of its loops and snapping it, making Santana flinch. "No names, no strings." She had an uncanny ability to sound both wholesome and unbearably sexy at the same time.

"How will I know what name to scream later on?" Santana asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Pick one." Brittany walked forward, backing Santana further into the room.

"I like the name Brittany."

"Pick something more exciting."

"Elektra?"

"Overused and tacky."

"Scarlett?"

"_Perfect_," Brittany grinned.

"Well then, Miss Scarlett… it's a pleasure to meet you." Santana smiled and stretched up on her toes to bring her lips to Brittany's.

Brittany pressed her finger to Santana's lips. "Ah, ah!" she reprimanded. "I take payment up front. No touching until then."

"Oh sorry, I forgot," Santana muttered. She reached in her purse and pulled out a twenty, handing it to Brittany.

Brittany examined the bill and frowned. "Well, I think I'll be taking my services elsewhere, then." She turned to go.

"Wait!" Santana cried. "I'm sorry, was that just _one_ hundred? I thought it was five." Santana pulled out four more assorted bills, sliding them through her fingers as she handed them to Brittany. She silently asked Brittany to suspend her disbelief as she said: "There. Five hundred."

"So where were we?" Brittany asked with a coy smile, tucking the bills in her jacket pocket.

Santana grinned and stretched up on her toes again for a kiss. With the height difference Brittany's heels made she could barely reach. Brittany kissed her for a moment before breaking away.

"So tell me how you like it," she purred, untucking Santana's shirt.

"I like it slow and rough. And I like it when you take direction."

"I think you'll find I take direction very well. And I like it slow and rough too."

"You're just saying that because I'm paying you."

"Does it matter?" Brittany purred. "If you say you like it slow and rough, that's how it's gonna go down. I'm here to make you feel good." Brittany unbuttoned the top two buttons of Santana's shirt, leaning down to kiss along her cleavage.

"And if I say I'd like to throw you on the bed and pound my fingers into you until you come?"

Brittany bent down further, still kissing between Santana's breasts. "Then that's what will happen. And I'll scream your name while you do."

"But you don't know my name."

Brittany glanced up at Santana, grinning at her mistake.

"I'm Carmen," Santana offered.

"Nice to meet you, Carmen," Brittany hummed as she knelt and finished unbuttoning Santana's shirt. She slid it off and unsnapped Santana's bra. When Santana's breasts were bare, she dragged her tongue over each nipple, wrapping her lips around them. When she felt Santana start to breathe deeply, she pulled away, looking up through her lashes. "So what's my first direction, Carmen?"

"Take off the rest of my clothes," Santana said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Brittany obeyed, keeping her eyes locked with Santana's in a sultry stare as she did.

"Now what?" Brittany asked when Santana was completely naked.

"I'll give you directions when I'm ready," Santana snipped. She left Brittany kneeling on the ground and walked toward the bed, pulling the comforter and top sheet off. She lay down and put her arms behind her head and crossed and her ankles. "Stand up," she said. When Brittany obeyed, Santana looked her up and down.

"Take off your skirt."

Brittany complied.

"Okay, now turn around."

Brittany turned.

"Good," Santana muttered as she assessed Brittany's thong-clad backside.

"Do you want me to do a striptease?" Brittany offered, looking over her shoulder.

"No, I want you to follow my directions."

"As you wish," Brittany acquiesced.

"Take off your jacket."

Brittany took it off and held it out to the side before dropping it.

"Shirt and bra too."

Brittany repeated the dramatic motion as she dropped her shirt. She twisted around and flung her bra at Santana like a slingshot before slipping her thumbs in the sides of her panties.

"Not those. Those stay on," Santana instructed.

Brittany pulled the lace back up around her hips.

"Put your jacket back on."

Brittany shot a questioning look over her shoulder but obeyed.

"Now face me."

Brittany turned, facing Santana wearing nothing but her thong and jacket. The cropped leather was unzipped, perfectly showcasing the channel between her breasts and the beginning of the curve under each one.

"I like that, Scarlett. It's a very sexy look. Come here."

Brittany walked toward the bed. "You want me to keep my shoes on?" she asked.

"I'd tell you if I wanted you to remove them."

"Of course. Sorry, Carmen."

"It's okay. Just listen better."

"I'm listening."

"Sit. Straddle me."

Brittany smiled as she sank onto Santana.

"I like this," Brittany purred, dragging her finger down Santana's chest and running it between her breasts. "I can see where my mouth was."

Santana looked down; there were bright red lipstick marks all over her breasts. However tacky it was, she found it incredibly hot.

"Oh god, that's really sexy, Britt," Santana murmured.

"Scarlett," Brittany reminded her.

"Scarlett…" Santana echoed. "Let me see you," she said, eying Brittany's panties.

Brittany slid her panties to the side, revealing her smooth, glistening center.

"Looks like somebody's already enjoying herself," Santana purred.

Brittany grinned, "It's not hard to enjoy myself with a client as sexy as you."

"Indeed… You know what I love, Scarlett?" Santana asked in a husky voice.

"What?"

"I love watching a woman touch herself. It really gets me going when I can tell she's enjoying it. Touch yourself for me now."

Brittany slid her hand under the open flap of her jacket and up to grasp her neck. As she tilted her head back, she slid her hand down to fondle her own breast before trailing her hand over her stomach. Still holding her panties aside, she smiled as her fingers moved over her clit in slow circles for a few minutes. Santana rubbed her hands up and down Brittany's thighs, occasionally muttering '_So fuckin' hot'_ or '_Good girl'_ or _'I like that, baby'_ as Brittany's motions picked up pace. Soon Brittany was panting and her hand was rubbing frantic circles over her clit.

"Don't stop," Santana encouraged. She moved one hand to hold Brittany's panties aside for her. "Make yourself come while I watch."

Brittany's rubbing became more furious until she stiffened and jerked forward, eyes squeezing shut as she clamped her knees around Santana for a moment. She gasped, panting as she opened her eyes to meet Santana's satisfied grin.

"Very good, Scarlett," Santana murmured, "You're right, you do take direction well."

Brittany smiled as her breathing slowed, rocking forward a bit before sitting up straight again. She stuck her fingers in her mouth, her lips curling around them in a wicked grin as she sucked the juices off. Santana trembled a little bit and whispered, "_Fuck_, that's hot."

"You like this?" Brittany asked, running her finger over the lipstick marks on Santana's chest. "Cuz I'm more than happy to leave my mark in other places."

Santana swallowed. "Yes. Yes, _please_."

Brittany dismounted and sauntered to her purse, pulling out her harlot-red lipstick and running it over her lips. She crawled back onto the bed with her hips in the air as she bent to kiss beside Santana's hipbone. She smeared the lipstick all over the soft skin of Santana's thighs, pelvis and mound, making little smacking noises and leaving a few marks with her teeth. She spread Santana's legs and nestled between them.

Before delving to lick Santana's center, she wiped off what remained of her lipstick with the back of her hand, leaving a few traces of red on her wrist. She lowered her head and ran her tongue up and down Santana a few times, feeling Santana shiver. After a few moments of licking, Brittany lifted her head and said coyly, "Oh, I'm sorry. You didn't tell me to do that. Is this okay?"

"Yes, keep going. Do _whatever_ you want," Santana said, already panting.

"Can I take off my jacket?" Brittany asked. "I'm kind of hot."

"Yeah, go ahead," Santana breathed. "Just keep fucking me."

Brittany shrugged off her coat and returned to licking Santana's center.

"Fingers?" Brittany asked after a minute.

"Uh-huh," Santana panted, head already tilted back with her eyes squeezed shut.

Brittany slid a finger inside, twisting it as she moved it in and out a few times. "God, you're wet," she murmured before returning her mouth to Santana's clit.

Santana moaned when Brittany slid another finger in.

Brittany let her lips smack as she lifted her head to ask, "You said you like it slow and rough, right?"

"Yes…"

Brittany slid a third finger inside Santana, who tensed as she felt herself stretch. Brittany sat up and held her hand still until she felt Santana relax. Once she did, Brittany thrust her fingers up forcefully, bringing the heel of her hand up against Santana's clit.

"Ah!" Santana exclaimed as she gripped the edge of the headboard to steady herself. It was a half-wince, half-grunt. "Fuck!" she whispered, her lips spreading in a smile.

Brittany slowly withdrew her fingers only to ram them up into Santana again.

Santana moaned, sliding her free hand through the sheets.

"Is that how you like it?" Brittany purred.

"_Yes_…" Santana whimpered.

Brittany continued thrusting with her hand until Santana was gasping and clawing at her own breasts, ruddying the already smeared lipstick. Brittany knew her frustrated writhing meant she needed just a slight change of pace and she'd be over the edge. Brittany started pulsing upwards into Santana's abdomen with her fingers, no longer thrusting at all. Santana's pelvis tipped and she held her breath. Brittany lowered her head and ran her tongue over Santana's clit just a few times before she felt Santana clamp down on her hand and Santana's knees contract around her shoulders. Santana arched as a strained cry flew from her throat, hanging midair until Brittany stopped pressing up with her fingers. She settled back onto the bed, breaths raspy as a satisfied, shaky smile spread across her face.

"You're easy for a girl," Brittany grinned, wiping her mouth and removing her hand. "It must have been that little show I gave you."

"I told you I like watching other girls get off, Scarlett."

"Well I'd give you another show, but I'm worried you'd explode."

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

Brittany laughed as she flopped down next to Santana, flicking her shoes off with her toes as she broke character.

"That was fun, Santana. We should do role-plays more often. We used to do them all the time."

"Definitely... God, Britt, you make one hell of a hooker." She snuggled into Brittany's chest. "I'm glad we don't have to resort to that, but you'd be making _bank_ if we did."

"Santana!" Brittany scolded, chuckling as she swatted Santana on the arm. "I couldn't turn tricks and then come home to you…"

Santana wrapped her arms around Brittany and nuzzled into her neck. "Yeah, I quite prefer having you all to myself."

They lay they for a minute, enjoying the quiet.

"I'm really glad I got to see you tonight," Santana murmured. "It gets so lonely in my room in Columbus."

"I think I'll be able to come stay with you sometimes now. Dad's doing so well, I think my mom could manage for a night or two."

"Really?" Santana asked, looking up at Brittany in delight.

"Uh huh. We should get full use out of that room you have. Living with my parents wasn't exactly conducive to getting our cuddle on."

"No kidding… Hey, do you know what we should do next time?" Santana asked with a glint in her eye.

"What?"

"Naughty nurse," Santana smiled, biting her lip.

"I've been thinking about that, actually," Brittany said, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "I think that's what I want to do."

"Well maybe we should take a little trip to the costume shop…" Santana purred, running her finger between Brittany's breasts.

"No, I mean I think that's what I want to _do_," Brittany said. "I want to be a nurse."

Santana stilled her hand and looked up at Brittany. "_Really_?" she asked in surprise.

"You don't think I could?" Brittany asked, looking hurt.

Santana could see Brittany's old insecurities about her academic ability surfacing. "No, of _course_ I think you could. I'm just surprised because you never talked about it before."

Brittany shrugged. "I guess taking care of my dad made me realize how much I would like it."

"That's fantastic, Britt. I'm so excited for you. You'll be _great_ at it."

"Well, I have to get into a program first, Brittany mumbled."

"I'll help you," Santana offered. "I don't know anything about nursing school, but I'll try."

"No…" Brittany said. "I want to do this on my own. I mean, aside from tuition, which my parents will help with… it's important to me that this be _my_ thing."

Santana gazed at Brittany for a moment before kissing her on the cheek. "You have no idea how much respect I have for that, sweetheart."

Brittany grinned as she snuggled into Santana. "I think I have a _pretty_ good idea."

Santana nuzzled her ear and they lay in contented silence for several minutes.

"I can't wait until I get to be with you every night again," Brittany hummed.

"Me neither, sweetheart" Santana murmured, kissing her hair. "Me neither…"


	52. Look No Further

**Chapter 52: Look No Further**

Chapter title song and **soundtrack**: "Look No Further" by Dido – I highly recommend listening while reading! It couldn't be more perfect.

**A/N: Thank you so much to my betas, Mia and terriblemuriel.**

* * *

><p><strong>A month later, March 2020<strong>

* * *

><p>Santana pulled into the Pierces' driveway late Friday night. She was exhausted, but relieved she had managed to get enough work done to make it back to Lima for the weekend. Although it was almost midnight, she knew Brittany would be waiting up for her. Sure enough, Brittany opened the front door, pulling on her coat as she walked out to greet Santana before the engine was even off. She stood next to the car smiling until Santana got out, wrapping an arm around her waist to draw her close.<p>

"Hey, sweetie," Brittany said, pressing her torso into Santana in a graceful curve as she kissed her. "I'm glad you're here." Her words were steam-puffs in the frigid midnight air of what seemed like an extended winter.

"Me too," Santana said as she gave her an affectionate extra peck. "How is he?"

"He's good. Sleeping." Brittany broke away and opened the trunk. She took out Santana's duffel bag, hoisting it over her shoulder without much effort. They walked up the steps and closed the door behind them, being as quiet as they could.

Brittany set the duffel bag down in the hall and took Santana's hand. "Keep your coat on and come with me," she whispered, leading Santana through the living room and kitchen. She opened the door to the back porch. Crusts of snow slanted against the railings, residual pockets of winter that had yet refused to melt. The ice on the deck and in the yard beyond glimmered in the light of dozens of lit candles that had been placed along the top of the railing. It was cold and silent, making the sky above them seem lower and the distance between the neighboring houses seem farther.

"Aw, how pretty," Santana lilted, looking around at the candles as Brittany quietly shut the door behind them. "So romantic… it makes me want to dance with you."

"Then let's dance," Brittany said, turning toward Santana with a little smile. She held her hand out, palm up. Santana took it, smiling as she was led into the center of the deck.

Brittany threaded her other arm around Santana's waist under her coat. Santana smiled as she pressed her hand into Brittany's back and perched her head on her shoulder. Their torsos nestled together through the unzipped fronts of their coats as they rocked back and forth, hands clasped and cheeks pressed together, trying to keep warm. The wooden slats of the deck creaked below their feet. Santana shifted back, lifting Brittany's hand above her head and turning her wrist, inviting Brittany to spin. Brittany smiled and turned slowly around, putting her hand on Santana's shoulder when she completed the circle.

"I should take you dancing more often," Santana remarked, resting her forehead against Brittany's. The tips of their noses touched, the thawing sensation reminding them how cold it was outside.

Brittany's expression was solemn as she stepped back and took Santana's other hand firmly in her own. "Santana…" she began, the word swirling out in a puff of steam. Her feet stopped rocking as she stilled their dance.

"Brittany…" Santana mirrored, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"We've gone through so much this year… coming back together, taking care of my dad… Even living apart I see how solid we are. I know now more than ever that we can get through anything."

"We can," Santana agreed, grinning as she squeezed Brittany's hands and swung them back and forth between them.

Brittany gave her a nervous smile and stilled their hands. She took another small step backward, a chill running between them through the open fronts of their coats. "Over the years I've watched you become an amazing, brave woman with _such_ a big heart. You're loyal and forgiving and passionate and I love you more than anything in the world. I want everyone to know you're mine forever."

Santana shrugged, still looking at Brittany with a lighthearted smile. "Of course I'm yours forev…"

Her smile dissolved and her throat choked off her words as she watched Brittany get down on her knees. Through blurred vision, she saw Brittany reach inside her coat and take out a black velvet box, opening it to reveal a sparkling silver ring. The sharp, eerie silence of winter pressed into her ears for what seemed like minutes.

"Marry me, Santana," Brittany murmured. Her words were muted in the damp stillness around them. She looked up at Santana in peaceful adoration, the glimmering of the candles illuminating her face.

The cold air was stuck in Santana's throat as she looked back and forth between Brittany's bright, hopeful eyes, and the silver band with its glistening solitaire. Her head was spinning and she couldn't move. She saw all the hope and promise she would ever need in Brittany's face and was at a loss for words.

"Oh my _god_, Britt…" she whispered.

This was so utterly unexpected. She couldn't believe Brittany had actually planned a proposal and bought a ring. They had never talked about getting married; Santana just assumed they both understood they were in a lifetime commitment. Rings and vows and a ceremony had never been discussed. She realized right then that not talking about it had been a big mistake, because now she was stuck between her two biggest loves: the fire of justice and the calm ocean of Brittany.

Brittany reached for Santana's hand to put the ring on, but Santana flinched and pulled away.

Brittany's face fell. She turned white as a sheet, staring up at Santana with wide eyes. "You… you don't want to?" Panic spread across her face as the hand that held the ring outstretched started to tremble.

Kneeling before Santana with her face full of fear, Brittany suddenly looked so small. Santana fell to her knees, desperately trying to reassure her with the first words she could think of: "Oh sweetheart, you _know_ I'm in this for life..." She reached for Brittany's free hand and held it between her own.

Tears welled up in the corners of Brittany's eyes. "But you don't want to marry me?" she squeaked in disbelief.

"Of _course_ I want to," Santana hushed, running a hand over Brittany's cheek, trying to get her to smile. "Of _course_, sweetheart…" She clung to Brittany's warmth as it evaporated into the thin air. The cold of the deck under her knees ran up her legs as a tear fell down Brittany's cheek. Santana's heart wrenched with guilt. "Hey, hey…" she cooed, "Don't cry! I _love_ you. I want to marry you more than anything."

Brittany swallowed. "You do?" A glimmer of hope returned to her eyes.

Santana nodded solemnly as she wiped the tear away with her thumb. "Of _course_. I want to marry you in front of everyone we know." She squeezed Brittany's hand before pressing a kiss into the palm and placing it to her cheek. The tips of Brittany's fingers were cold, but her palm still held its warmth.

Brittany looked up at Santana through her lashes, giving her a tiny smile as she tried to put the ring on again. Santana stilled her hand, wrapping Brittany's fingers around the ring. Brittany looked at her, confused and sad.

"Britt…" Santana said gently. "Not yet."

Brittany looked even more confused. "Why not?" she asked, her words small and her expression still fearful. "Now's as good a time as any… life's never going to be perfect. If we wait for that we'll be waiting forever. I just want to marry you..."

"And I want to marry _you_," Santana cooed. Every word was an apology for the sadness she saw in Brittany's face.

A swirl of steam puffed between them as Brittany let out a choked breath. "So why can't we have a wedding and have people come celebrate how much we love each other? Is it because of your parents?"

"No…" Santana said with a sad smile. She knew her parents would never be ready to come to their wedding.

"So why not _now_?" Brittany persisted.

"Because it wouldn't be legal," Santana soothed, running her other hand over the top of Brittany's fist that held the ring.

"That doesn't mean anything," Brittany protested, her brow furrowing. "It's just a piece of paper." She pulled her fist from Santana's grasp as she sat back on her haunches. She put the ring back in the box and closed it, dropping it on the icy deck. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down, dejected.

"It's _not_ just a piece of paper. And it means something to me," Santana murmured, leaning forward to pick up the box. The velvet on the bottom was damp and icy from the snow. "I want to _marry_ you, Brittany," she stated, opening the box to examine the ring. "I don't want a 'civil union' or a 'commitment ceremony' or a 'domestic partnership.' I want the whole thing."

Brittany kept her chin down but looked up as Santana continued speaking.

"When we say our vows, I want them to be recognized by the law and everyone around us. I won't accept anything less than that. If we had a wedding now, I would _always_ regret not giving you the whole thing. Just imagine our wedding kiss or our first dance."

Brittany gave Santana a hesitant smile.

"Now think how much better it will feel when we know our wedding is equal to all other weddings."

Brittany bit her lip, mulling over Santana's words as her smile spread.

"When we get married – and we _will_ – I know it will be the happiest day of my life. I'll be marrying _you_, and it will be as legal as any other marriage in Ohio."

Adoration washed over Brittany at the reminder of Santana's passion for justice.

"_God_, you scared me, S," Brittany said as a smile sparked in corners of her mouth. "I guess I should have known… you're working on the marriage equality bill, of _course_ you'd have strong feelings about it. I feel so silly..." She held a hand up to her face.

"Don't feel silly, sweetie," Santana hummed. "We never talked about it, and we _should_ have. Now I feel like a jerk."

"You're not a jerk," Brittany shrugged. "I shouldn't have surprised you… you don't really like surprises. And you have the best reason ever for saying no."

"I'm _not_ saying no, B," Santana declared, surprised at Brittany's interpretation. "I'm saying yes – absolutely yes. A _thousand _times yes. As soon as it's legal." She gazed at Brittany beaming in the candlelight. She was so breathtakingly beautiful. Santana felt reverence for her beauty as well her honesty, her gentleness, and her enormous heart. She cupped Brittany's chin and sighed. "I should have married you in Connecticut."

Brittany gave her a sad smile and shrugged. "We weren't ready."

Santana gave her a regretful nod. She tucked Brittany's hair behind her ear. "I'm ready now."

"Me too," Brittany murmured.

Santana paused to admire Brittany for a moment longer before leaning forward to press their lips together. As they brushed against each other, she felt all the butterflies of their first kiss and all the security and devotion of their eight and a half years together unite in their touch. She knew for certain that they felt exactly the same way about their love: it was one for the ages, a love to end all loves, a lifetime and beyond of happiness and struggles together.

When they broke away, Santana whispered, "I want it to be equal... We deserve that, Britt. I just want everything to be…" she trailed off, searching for a word.

"Whole," Brittany finished.

"Yeah," Santana sighed, smiling as she rested her forehead against Brittany's.

"Then we'll wait 'til it's whole," Brittany murmured, pressing their lips together once more. The kiss felt even more gentle than the last.

Santana smiled and sat back on her heels. "This ring," she said, handing the box back to Brittany, "gives me something to fight for every day when I go into work." She reached behind her neck and unclasped her necklace. She took the ring out of the box and slipped it onto the thin silver chain of the necklace. "The _minute _the bill gets signed into law, you can put the ring on my finger," Santana said, her resolve firm. She held the ends of the necklace out for Brittany to take. "And then we'll plan a wedding."

"Promise?" Brittany asked, a smile spreading across her face as she took the ends of the necklace

"Promise," Santana nodded, a smile lighting up her face as she pictured Brittany putting the ring on her finger.

Santana held her hair up as Brittany clasped the necklace around her neck. When it was secured, Brittany held the back of Santana's neck, cradling her chin in her wrists as she drew her close and kissed her. Santana's lips slid between Brittany's and she tried to convey the sincerity of her promise as she wrapped her arms around the woman she loved more than anything in the world.

"I hope we don't have to wait forever," Brittany murmured when they broke apart.

"We won't," Santana promised, shaking her head and keeping her arms around Brittany to ward off the cold.

Brittany smiled and picked up the ring, kissing it. "It's a lab diamond," she said.

"What's that?"

"It was created in a lab in New Jersey instead of being harvested in a war zone. It has as much integrity as you do."

Santana beamed. Even the jewelry Brittany gave her was thoughtful and kind. "I love it," she murmured. "It's perfect."

"I would wait, though," Brittany added as she drew Santana flush against her again.

"For what?" Santana asked.

"I would wait forever," Brittany murmured, "if it meant I got to marry you all the way."

"Oh, B…" Santana squeezed Brittany even closer. She ran her hand over Brittany's back as Brittany settled into the crook of her neck. "We won't have to wait forever. Not if I have anything to do with it."

As she held Brittany tight, she had never felt closer to her than she did right then. Whatever dust was unsettled in Santana's heart came to rest as she knelt there, surrounded by snow, candlelight, Brittany, and a promise she would fight for the rest of her life to keep.


	53. Can't Hold Us Down

**Chapter 53: Can't Hold Us Down**

Chapter title song and **soundtrack**: "Can't Hold Us Down" by Christina Aguilera

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you to everyone who sent me good wishes as I embark on the next step in my career! The first week was wonderful, and I got everything I wanted out of my placement and training assignments. Your wishes must have worked!**

**Thank you, as always, to my betas Mia and terriblemuriel. Also, my amazing proofreader Emma's 409.**

* * *

><p>March 2020<p>

* * *

><p>Santana walked down the hall to her office the following Monday, trying not to look smug with her new bling around her neck. She was excited, not only to show Elinor the ring, but because it was just one week until SB 61 went to its preliminary assembly hearing. When she opened the door to the office she shared with Elinor and Denton, she was surprised to see a strange woman sitting at the conference table looking over some papers with Elinor. Her long red hair hung over her pale shoulders and ivy green shirt.<p>

"Um… hi," Santana said.

"Morning!" Elinor chirped, looking up from over the redhead's shoulder.

The redhead didn't look up. Santana thought that was rude, so she walked around the table and extended her hand. "Hi, I'm Santana."

The stranger lifted her head, unsmiling, and begrudgingly extended her hand, shaking it for just a second without a trace of enthusiasm. "Jordan."

Santana's blood went cold.

"_Hi_ Jordan," Santana forced out. She tried to catch Elinor's eye, but Elinor remained focused on the papers in front of her. "Elinor? A word?" Santana hissed, gesturing toward the hall with her head, eyes wide.

Elinor gave her a defensive look before standing and following Santana into the hall.

When they were just out of earshot Santana wheeled around. "What the _fuck_ is she doing here?" she demanded as quietly as she could, pointing towards their office. She would have preferred to yell, but they were in a government building and she didn't want to draw unnecessary attention. Still, it was difficult to keep her voice down, and her words were seething. "That bitch screwed you over dozens of times and now I come into work and she's going over our fucking _document_? That's confidential! If Marcía found out she would flip her shit. Seriously, you might have to restrain me so I don't go in there and rearrange that whore's face. No one fucks with my friends and then waltzes into my workplace without first giving me a _damn_ good explanation and doing an obscene amount of groveling, which frankly I don't think she-"

"Santana! Calm the fuck down. She hasn't looked at the bill, okay? She's just here to sign our lease termination papers."

"Lease termination papers?"

"We both have to sign them stating our intent to move out, even though I already did. We're just making it official."

"She couldn't fax them or something?"

Elinor looked down the hall, pausing. "It… it was just easier this way."

"Easier for _who_?" Santana challenged, her eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Elinor shot Santana a look that meant _don't push me_.

"No, really, El, for who? For _her_? Because that's bullshit. There's no way it's easier for her to drive across town than to fax a few papers back and forth. She has an _assistant_. She could even _forge_ your signature. Whatever reason she gave you is a thinly veiled attempt to drag you back into her twisted little game."

"It's complicated, Santana."

"No, it's not!" Santana seethed, exasperated. "She's doing her same old snake-in-the-grass thing and I'm not going to sit there and let her get away with it! If you're not going to stand up for yourself, _I_ will!"

Before Elinor could object, Santana stormed down the hall back into their office, leaving Elinor dumbstruck in the hall.

"Hi, _Jordan_," she said with an insincere smile. "Are you done with those documents? Because I'm afraid you've overstayed your welcome and I have to _politely_ ask you to leave."

"Oh really? Who are _you_?" Jordan challenged.

"Elinor's new girlfriend," Santana fibbed without missing a beat. She would tell just about any lie to protect Elinor. She knew Brittany would approve. Brittany probably would have suggested it.

"Oh _really_," Jordan scoffed, rolling her eyes. "She the one who gave you that ring?"

Santana was boiling mad now. "I said," she growled, "it's time. For you. To leave."

"Whatever," Jordan huffed, tossing her pen on the table and standing. She picked up her purse and walked out. As she rounded the doorframe, she looked back and sneered. "Hope you don't mind she stayed over at my place last night."

Santana gripped the back of a chair to keep herself from hurling a stapler at Jordan. She heard Elinor fluttering down the hall after Jordan, making whining apologies. A few moments later, Elinor walked back into the office, stone-faced. Santana avoided eye contact. Not a single word was spoken for five full minutes as they pretended to do work. Santana wished as hard as she could that Denton would arrive and ease the tension with his casual attitude and perfectly timed humor. But he didn't show up.

Finally Santana couldn't bear it anymore. "I'm sorry," she grumbled. It wasn't sincere, and Elinor knew it.

Elinor held up her hand. "I don't want to hear it," she snapped.

A few minutes later Elinor's phone buzzed. She looked at the text message, collected some documents into her briefcase, and walked out. Santana didn't see her for the rest of the day and Denton didn't ask any questions when he arrived.

That night Santana went back to her hotel room and watched _Law & Order_ reruns – which were terrible, because they never got things quite right – and picked at her room-service dinner, feeling even lonelier than usual.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Santana walked into the office with a sheepish expression on her face. Glancing across the table at Elinor, she quietly opened her briefcase. Elinor's eyes remained on the document in front of her. As Santana closed her briefcase, Elinor slid a piece of paper across the table to her without looking up. Santana eyed Elinor with suspicion before moving the paper in front of her to read.<p>

_I, Elinor Kelley, promise not to meet with Jordan McClendon in person without first consulting Santana Lopez. I understand that Miss Lopez has my best interests at heart and although she is very, very scary when she's angry, she is a protective and loyal friend. I hope that I would be able to do the same for her if the tables were turned. Furthermore, I will stop deluding myself about Miss McClendon's intentions and will consult with Miss Lopez before initiating any further contact with Miss McClendon. Signed on this day, March twenty-sixth, two-thousand-twenty: Elinor Kelley._

Santana tried to conceal a satisfied smile. "Sorry I went ape shit on you," she mumbled.

"No you're not," Elinor grinned. "And I should have known better than to bring her here," Elinor shrugged. "But… I'm kind of glad I did. So are we cool?"

"Yeah," Santana smirked. "We're cool. I'm still pissed at her, but now I have it in writing that you're not going to get back together or do anyth-"

"OH MY GOD!" Elinor screamed, pointing at Santana's necklace. "Girl, you got some _shiny_! When were you going to _tell _me?"

"Yesterday," Santana said with a smug grin.

"Sweet jeezus, it's _gorgeous_, Santana!" Elinor exclaimed, getting out of her seat to come examine the ring more closely.

"Isn't it?" Santana smiled, looking down at it. "Britt's got good taste."

"Does it not fit?" Elinor frowned, examining it with her fingers.

"No, it fits."

"Why are you wearing it around your neck?"

"I don't know, it just felt right when she asked me," Santana shrugged. "We had a long talk and I told her I didn't want to get married until it was legal. I want to marry her more than anything– you know that. But since it's not legal yet, putting it on my finger felt… _off_."

"Actually, that's genius," Elinor said, sounding impressed. "It's like you're saying 'hey, since I'm not legally allowed to get married, you don't consider my engagement real either.' It's a powerful statement. It calls out that 'separate and unequal' thing between marriage and domestic partnerships."

"Yeah… yeah, I guess that's it!" Santana said, pleased that Elinor understood her impulse in more concrete terms than she did. "It _is_ about being treated as separate and unequal."

"It will look especially good at the press conference."

Santana froze. "Press conference?"

"Yeah. Marcía didn't tell you?" Elinor frowned.

"No…"

"Next week after the preliminary hearing they're holding a press conference to ask us about our work on the bill. Marcía and Denton will talk a lot, but we'll be there too. Having that ring around your neck gives a personal story to our cause. They'll eat it up."

"Oh… Wow, I didn't know that was part of the job…." Santana said, trying not to sound nervous.

"We'll talk about it lots later. But for now, we need to go take our final copy of SB 61 to Neil," Elinor said, giddy with excitement. "I feel like a proud mama taking her baby to the first day of kindergarten. C'mon, you have to tell me every _single_ detail of Britt's proposal on the way."

Santana smiled and stood, gathering her papers. She was just as excited as Elinor about next week's hearing – she had never been to anything like it before – but was distracted by her sudden worry about the press conference. She was glad she had the short distance to the car to walk off some of the anxiety she felt. As their heels clicked down the hall, she dug in her purse for her nail file and began examining which nails needed to be smoothed. It helped her to do something with her hands when she felt like this. She chatted away with Elinor, recounting the candles and the snow and how utterly surprised she'd been. But she couldn't shake off the feeling that she was headed down a one-way freeway with no exits. Would she have to out herself at the press conference? As an adult she had never been shy about her orientation, but she wasn't sure she was ready to be an LGBT representative for the media. It was one thing to hold Brittany's hand in public and steal kisses every now and then; it was another to go on the news and talk to strangers, having her answers edited and transmitted to more strangers who sat passing judgment in the comfort of their own homes. Now, apparently it was part of her job to be an example.

* * *

><p>Santana arrived at work on Thursday to find Denton, Elinor, and a strange woman sitting at the table in their office. The stranger had sleek, shiny dark hair cut to her shoulders and looked like she was somewhere between thirty and forty years old. Her suit was a little faded, but her makeup was precise and elegant over her olive-tone skin.<p>

"Um… hi," Santana said, glancing at Elinor with a _who is this?_ expression on her face. Elinor smiled.

The woman looked up. "Hi! Oh, I'm sorry, is this your seat? Here, I'll move." She stood, gathering her papers.

"No, no, it's okay. We switch seats every day. It's one of Denton's strategies to make sure we get 'fresh perspectives.'" She nodded towards Denton who gave her a cartoonishly charming smile.

"I like that idea. Sorry, I'm Danielle, Marcía's publicist," she said, extending her hand across the table. "I'm here to brief you on what will happen at the press conference."

"Oh, great! I'm Santana," she said, shaking Danielle's hand. "Nice to meet you." She settled into her seat and took out a pen and paper.

"So have any of you ever been to a press conference?" Danielle asked, settling back into her chair and straightening the papers in front of her.

Santana and Elinor shook their heads.

"I have," Denton said, lifting his hand. "Many times."

"Excellent. Have you told them about your experiences?"

"No, we've been focusing on the bill."

"Okay. Well, it's a lot like what you see on TV. What you don't see is the preparation or the thought process of the facilitator. So that's what I'm here to brief you on, and then I'll answer any other questions you might have. Sound good?"

Elinor, Santana and Denton nodded.

"Okay, I'll just jump right in. The press will assemble in a room and you'll be brought in to answer questions. There will be a facilitator, a neutral party, meaning neither press nor subject, who will pick who gets to ask the questions in what order. The facilitator knows which members of the press get to answer questions first, for whatever reasons; usually status and the reputation of the publication."

"Are there questions they're not allowed to ask us?" Santana asked hopefully.

"No, they only do that for celebrity press conferences."

"What, we're not celebrities?" Denton teased.

Danielle grinned at him. "Hopefully soon. Anyway, sometimes the subject will read a prepared statement before opening up the floor to questions. I'm not sure what Marcía has decided about that. In any case, you'll be seated at a table with microphones. I would suggest dividing up which topics each of you will speak about beforehand to avoid awkward pauses and glancing up and down the table. I'm guessing that Marcía and Denton will be fielding most of the questions since they've worked the longest in government agencies, but if a question relates specifically to legal issues, it makes most sense for either of you to answer," she said, nodding to Elinor and Santana.

Denton nodded. "We don't want to emphasize that this team was formulated specifically for the bill because we don't want to subject Neil to scrutiny. So of course it's fine to reference your legal training, but your involvement in this bill isn't solely about that aspect. So don't identify yourselves as 'one of the lawyers that was hired to help draft the bill.' We're all just members of the team and we happen to have different backgrounds."

"Okay, good to know. So Elinor and Santana, just be sure to address the camera when you're speaking. Enunciate and sit up straight and you'll be golden. Is there anything I didn't cover?"

Santana lifted her hand a few inches. "Since there's no off-limits topics, how should we handle questions that are blatantly judgmental or too personal?"

"Hmm… Do you have kids, Santana?"

Santana shook her head.

"Have you ever been around kids?" Danielle asked.

Santana gave Danielle a bemused look. "Some," she answered. "I have lots of little cousins. Why?"

"Do you like spending time with them?"

"Sometimes they get a little whiny, but usually they're adorable."

"Good," Danielle nodded. "When you're answering a question that might irk you, just pretend you're talking to a group of kids. You can still use legal terms, of course, but just spell everything out in the simplest, most straightforward way possible. You don't have to answer anything too personal. Don't get overly emotional, either. When they ask a question or go in a direction that seems ridiculous and far-fetched, just remember they don't know any better. All they know is their own little childlike reality. That or they're testing your boundaries like a kid does. It's way easier to be patient with them that way."

"Okay…" Santana contemplated Danielle's suggestion. She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "Kids, huh?"

"Yup," said Danielle, nodding. "That makes it easy. Anyway, I suggest you wear business attire, not unlike what you're wearing now. Don't wear white or bright red because it doesn't look good on camera. I would also avoid flashy jewelry. But definitely keep the ring, Santana," she said with a grin.

Santana glanced at Elinor, knowing she would get an _I told you so_ smile. But Elinor was staring at Danielle with rapt attention and Santana couldn't catch her eye. Santana realized Elinor hadn't spoken the whole morning, but just sat there, smiling. Danielle was looking at Elinor and smiling too. Santana looked back and forth between the two women.

Elinor was spellbound.

* * *

><p>After the preliminary hearing the following day, Santana was furious. As she listened to the elected officials debate the content of the bill, she clenched her fists at her sides to keep from throwing or breaking anything. She tightened her jaw, biting the fleshy part of her lower lip to keep from yelling. She didn't say a word during the car ride with Marcía, Denton and Elinor to Carlos' hotel where the press conference was being held. When they arrived, Santana bolted down a hallway. She burst through the door of an empty conference room. "Those <em>fuckers<em>!" she shouted, slamming her briefcase down on a table. "The fucking _nerve_ of them!"

Elinor followed Santana in. "Calm _down_, Lopez," she said, shutting the door.

"Did you hear what the one asshole said?" Santana fumed. "He actually used the term 'fag' in a public hearing. What decade does he think this is?"

Elinor's voice was steady and hushed. "We knew it would be an uphill battle. The preliminary hearing was a shit show, but we have time to make revisions before this session closes."

"But we shouldn't have to!" Santana argued. "The arguments these Assembly people come up with to justify their bigotry are ridiculous! It's disgusting what kind of lunatic gets voted into public office in our 'democratic' system. We shouldn't have to present research data proving gay people aren't _child_ molesters and perverts! We should be talking about our constitutional rights!"

"Your temper has really flared up lately," Elinor noted dryly. "Being away from Brittany is getting to you, isn't it?"

Santana huffed in admission, her shoulders still tense.

Elinor rallied. "Well, hopefully just a little longer until this moves through to the senate and you can go back to Lima. But rest assured – this morning's hearing was a good sign."

"How is this a _good sign_?" Santana whined, hands on her hips. "I thought I'd be doing real legal consultation, not helping Marcía pander to their ridiculous theories about how we're _mutants_!"

"It's a good sign because it means they're grasping at straws. They can't find anything to actually back up their argument because the bill is sound. Classic filibustering."

Santana sighed, lowering her voice a bit. "The fact that these 'government officials' are actually ignorant turds _pisses_ me off. I just want to take Britt back to New Haven where we can get married, live happily ever after, and never have to deal with people like that again." She flopped down into a chair with visible petulance.

Elinor sat on the corner of the table and folded her arms across her chest. "Santana," she said, looking down at Santana in a way that made her feel like she was back in grade school. "You know there are people like that everywhere, even in Connecticut — _especially_ in Connecticut. At least Ohio is a swing state. And if you decide to run away and marry Brittany somewhere else just because this is frustrating, not only will I not come to your wedding, I know you'll feel guilty about it for the _rest_ of your life. So enough with that nonsense." She handed Santana a bottle of water from her purse.

"I know…" Santana grumbled, taking the bottle of water and resting her head on the back of her chair. She took a sip of water and another deep breath. She picked up the ring on her necklace and pulled it side to side, making the thin silver chain vibrate against her neck. "I know I would feel like a quitter if I did that, and it wouldn't be fair to Britt to make her move again… but this is really hard. It's one thing when everyday people stare or scowl when they see me holding her hand, but it's another to watch elected officials discuss the validity of my relationship. It just makes my blood boil. I have no idea how I'm going to respond if any bigoted questions come up during the press conference this afternoon."

"Remember what Danielle said. Answer the bad questions like you're talking to a kid."

"Okay. Can we have a sign in case I can't handle the question?"

"Sure. Scratch your eyelid."

"Great. Just… how do these people _think_ all those awful things?"

Elinor paused, gazing out the window for a moment. "Remember when we met? That summer?"

"Yeah…" Santana said, glancing away and reaching for the ring again.

"Remember how scared you were about being gay?" Elinor pressed.

Santana nodded, looking at the label on her water bottle.

"They're afraid of what they don't understand too," Elinor said gently. "They don't know any better."

Santana paused before she spoke again. She wanted to be very careful with her words. "Maybe they just didn't have someone patient enough to teach them otherwise," she said, still staring at her water. She heard Elinor exhale as she smiled in gratitude. There was a moment of silence. "I guess I should have a little more patience with the turds," Santana added, shrugging.

Elinor chuckled and picked up her purse from behind her on the table. "I need to go make a call. Will you be okay until I get back?"

Santana looked up and nodded. "Yeah," she said. Elinor stood and turned to go. As she reached the door, Santana called after her, "Hey, El?"

Elinor turned halfway around. "Yeah?" she asked.

"Thank you," Santana mumbled. "For that summer. And… for everything else."

"You're welcome," said Elinor with a gracious smile. She gave Santana an affectionate nod as she opened the door and walked back into the hallway.

* * *

><p>The hotel ballroom where the press conference was being held – coincidently the same hotel Santana had been living in – was crowded and noisy. Santana sat at the end of the table next to Elinor. Denton and Marcía sat to their left, fielding most of the questions. Denton was as charming as ever, and Marcía was just as straightforward and humorless as she was in the office. They balanced each other out well.<p>

"What were your initial reactions to the preliminary hearing?" a reporter from the Cincinnati Times asked.

"We had mixed feelings," Denton answered, leaning towards his microphone. He continued with his diplomatic and vague answer, earning a few satisfied nods from the press.

Most of the questions were about the motivations for drafting the bill, which they spoke to in both general and specific terms: themes of equality and justice were addressed, but the practical and legal reasons for enabling same-sex couples to marry were also given attention.

After a while, questions drifted past motivations to other issues. "Has the governor indicated whether or not he would veto the bill, should it be passed through the senate?"

Marcía leaned forward. "No, he has not. It would be a bit premature at this time."

A man with a recording device held in the air raised his hand and the facilitator brought the microphone to him.

"Do any of you have any personal investment in this bill?" he asked.

"You mean are we banking on it passing for our own right to marry?" Denton asked with a grin.

The reporter who asked the question confirmed.

The team looked up and down the table, trying not to let their gazes linger on Santana. Santana could feel Elinor perk up next to her, curious to see if Santana would answer the question.

Santana thought about all the people in the room. Outing herself to them was different than outing herself to a room of high school students like she had done with the Speakers' Bureau in college. Now she was a legal professional. Once she was out, she couldn't go back in, and it was possible that being out would affect her future career. She looked at the journalists with their pens raised, the photographers and cameramen with their devices poised. One camera was clearly labeled C-SPAN. If she outed herself now, it would be public knowledge and she wouldn't be able to take it back.

Then she remembered that night on the porch with Brittany. The snow, the candles, and the look on Brittany's face when Brittany thought Santana was rejecting her proposal. Santana would do anything to make sure she never saw that face again.

Santana's heart raced and blood pounded in her head as she cleared her throat. "I've got a personal investment," she said, leaning toward the microphone with confidence. "I want to marry my girlfriend. We've been together almost nine years and we don't feel a civil union or domestic partnership accurately reflects the commitment we're ready to make to each other. It's unfortunate that our fate lies in the hands of others, but I'm very hopeful our elected officials will do the right thing."

A few members of the press gave stiff smiles and nods as they scribbled and held up their recording devices. They seemed satisfied with Santana's reply and moved on to the next question.

The next half hour was easy. Denton and Marcía handled most of the questions, with Elinor and occasionally Santana giving their input on the legal implications of the bill.

* * *

><p>"You seem like you've done that before," Santana smiled at Elinor once they were back in the empty conference room they had used as a green room. Denton and Marcía had quickly gathered their belongings and left in a towncar, leaving Santana and Elinor alone with a few hotel staff who were prepping the room for a later event.<p>

Elinor shrugged. "I just focus on my breathing and try not to get worked up. It's easy to stay calm if you remember they're just people who are also flawed."

"It was a lot easier than I thought it would be, but I was still nervous," Santana said as she sank into one of the conference room chairs.

"You were awesome. I was proud of you for outing yourself," Elinor said, remaining standing with a smile.

"Yeah… I was kind of… relieved afterwards. But I think my heart's still beating a little fast."

Before Elinor could respond, someone put their hands in front of Santana's eyes. The fingers were thin and warm. Santana knew those hands anywhere. She whirled around.

"Britt!"

"Surprise!" Brittany cheered, bouncing her knees with her hands pressed together at her chest.

"Hey!" Santana exclaimed, her eyes going wide in delight as she stood up. "What are you _doing_ here?"

"I came to watch my celebrity girlfriend kick ass in her first press conference!"

"Aw, Britt, you didn't have to do that!"

"I know, but I'm awesome," Brittany smirked, wrapping her arms around Santana's neck. "You did so good," she murmured. "I was so proud of you."

"Who told you where it was?" Santana asked, still incredulous.

Brittany pointed to Elinor, who raised her hand and muttered, "Guilty as charged," with a grin.

"Aw, you two…" Santana said, shaking her head.

"Good to see you, El," Brittany said, giving her a quick hug.

"You too," Elinor said. "You look awesome."

"Thanks! I've been running."

"Let's take your awesomeness upstairs," Santana said, putting her hand on the small of Brittany's back. She turned and picked up her purse, giving Elinor a pat on the shoulder. "See you in the office tomorrow morning?"

"Oh, Denton said we're not meeting until noon, since we've been working such long hours. Go ahead and sleep in!"

"She'll need to," Brittany grinned, pulling Santana towards the hall.

"Britt!" Santana scolded, chuckling as they turned to leave.

Once the elevator doors closed behind them, Brittany tackled Santana, pushing her up against the wall playfully, kissing her neck and nibbling her ear. The doors opened and they trotted down the hall towards Santana's room.

"So…" Brittany lilted as Santana slipped her access key in the door. "Seeing your press conference was reason enough to come visit you. But I have another reason."

"Oh yeah?" Santana asked with a smirk, holding the door open for Brittany.

"Uh huh." Brittany walked into the room toward her suitcase, which she had placed on the chair before the press conference. "Carlos let me in," she explained, nodding towards the suitcase. She unzipped it, pulled out a bottle of champagne and exclaimed, "I got into nursing school!"

"Aahhhh!" Santana squealed. She jumped up and down before darting towards Brittany, wrapping her up. "Congratulations, Nurse Pierce!"

"One step closer," Brittany grinned.

"Where?" Santana asked.

"OSU Lima _and_ Mt. Carmel, here in Columbus."

"Oh, baby I'm _so_ proud of you… I _knew_ you'd get in." Santana rocked side to side on her feet, swaying with Brittany in her arms.

"Guess what else?"

"There's _more_?" Santana asked, pulling back to look at Brittany's face.

"My parents sat me down this afternoon… annnd… they told me it's time I moved here to be with you. Not just weekends. Full time."

"What!" Santana cried, even more ecstatic. "_Really_?" She gripped Brittany's shoulders.

"Uh huh!"

"That's the best news I've heard this year."

"Tonight's going to be a big celebration," Brittany purred, nuzzling Santana's ear. "You're not gonna know what hit you..." she kissed the hinge of Santana's jaw. "I brought the bubbly. And you have a really nice bathtub in there…"

"Oh, it's so on…" Santana grinned, already slipping out of her shoes and sliding her hands under Brittany's shirt.

A few minutes later they lay across from each other in the oval bathtub, water up to their shoulders, drinking champagne out of the hotel cups. The hot water slowly drained the press conference adrenaline out of Santana's muscles. Soon all she felt was the satisfaction of having been brave enough to out herself and the joy that came when Brittany visited. Steam clung to the glasses and moistened their faces; it looked like they were glowing.

They grinned across the water at each other as they took sips, letting the champagne bubbles sparkle on their tongues and tingle down their throats. Brittany wiggled and splashed her feet, sending a few drops into Santana's face and hair. Santana giggled into her champagne. After a minute she slithered across the tub, nuzzling into Brittany's ear and nipping it.

"Have I told you lately how unbearably sexy you are?" she purred.

"Yes, but please tell me again," Brittany grinned.

"You are so sexy sometimes I have to remind myself not to rip your clothes off in public."

"Oh yeah?"

"Uh huh. Sometimes you'll be doing something boring like putting the shopping cart back in line in a parking lot and I'll have the urge to push you up against our car and do naughty things to you."

"Like what things?" Brittany hummed.

"Like this..."

Setting her champagne on the edge of the tub, Santana sank her head under the water, closing her eyes and blowing air through her nose as her lips found Brittany's nipple. She slid her hands down Brittany's waist, anchoring herself at the smallest part, flicking out her tongue and sucking on Brittany's nipple.

Santana heard the rumble of Brittany humming through the water as it seeped into her ears. The water made little sloshing noises against the edge of the tub as she moved her head to Brittany's other nipple.

When she needed air, she rose from the water, blinking and grinning as her face dripped. "Just for starters," she added.

"That's a very good start," Brittany mumbled. "And it would be very naughty to do that to me in a parking lot. What else would you do?"

Santana wiped her face with her hand, then kissed Brittany's cheek, leaving drops of water on the damp skin. "I'd stick my hand down your pants and touch you," she said, sliding a hand down to Brittany's hip.

"In the parking lot?" Brittany gasped. "That's _really_ naughty, Santana. I think you'd get in big trouble for that."

"Probably" Santana hummed, running her tongue over Brittany's pulse point up to her ear, feeling Brittany tremble a bit. "I can't help myself though. I want to do _lots_ of naughty things to you." Her touch felt extra light in the water as she slid her fingers down the crease of Brittany's thigh, coming to rest just above Brittany's clit.

Brittany exhaled in anticipation as she parted her legs, pressing her knees against the ceramic walls of the tub. She tilted her head back against the ledge, letting out a barely audible groan. "_Please_," she whispered, "show me."

Santana moved her hand away, earning another frustrated groan from Brittany. But not a moment later, much to Brittany's delight, Santana took a deep breath and slid her torso underwater, curling back on her knees with her head positioned right above Brittany's sex.

Santana felt the water slosh around her as Brittany jerked when her tongue first slid over Brittany's clit. She grinned, a few bubbles floating out of her nose as she chuckled. Going down on Brittany underwater was difficult, given the confines of the tub and the fact that she had to fight the air in her lungs that pulled her upwards. She also had to practice good breath control to make sure she didn't get water up her nose and start sputtering, breaking the mood completely.

But it was worth it. Every noise Brittany made was muffled yet louder as it echoed through the water and sounded off the walls of the bathroom. Ripples accompanied every movement; waves lapped and swells sloshed against the porcelain. The heat of the water relaxed them, making it easy to lose themselves in their lovemaking.

Santana had to come up for air frequently as her own arousal made her breathing more rapid. She felt the hot water against her own sex, cool in comparison to the heat that was building there. Finally she grew so exhausted of coming up for air, she slid back up Brittany's body, resting against her shoulder as her fingers took over drawing circles around Brittany's clit and sliding up and down her folds.

"Here," Brittany said, trying to steady her voice through her ragged breathing. She wriggled out from under Santana and pushed herself up onto the rim of the tub, holding herself steady with her hands on the edge of the porcelain. "Please," she panted as she spread her legs.

Santana grinned and slid forward through the water, pulling herself up with hands hooked over Brittany's thighs, bringing her mouth to Brittany's sex again. It felt firmer against her mouth now that Brittany was out of the water.

Brittany leaned back against the wall, moaning in satisfaction.

Santana pressed in, feeling the water dripping down her face and back cool in comparison to Brittany's skin. Brittany tried not to buck her hips, but the added sensations of the hot water and cold porcelain made it difficult. She was growing frustrated, needing just a bit more than Santana could offer with her mouth.

Santana knew it and withdrew her mouth, panting, "Bed."

"Yeah," Brittany muttered.

Water sloshed from Santana's body as she rose out of the tub and stepped onto the mat. She grabbed a stack of towels as they both dripped into the bedroom. She flung the towels out over the sheets, pushing Brittany down, kissing her fiercely and bringing her hand down to flit through Brittany's folds before pushing two fingers inside. Brittany gasped, arching up into Santana and tilting her head back. "_Santana_…" she moaned.

Santana had noticed that since their reconnection, Brittany allowed herself to be dominated far more frequently. Santana still loved it when Brittany was forceful, but she enjoyed topping Brittany almost as much, and it gave them even more variety in their sex life. Neither of them was complaining.

Brittany snaked her hand between them, finding Santana's sex and mirroring what Santana's hand was doing. Their rhythm was urgent, pumping in and out until their lower arms were sore. Santana came first, pushing up into Brittany as she winced and squeezed her eyes shut, gasping.

"Oh god," she groaned as she started to come down. "Oh god, come for me, Britt," she gasped, trying to prolong her own orgasm. She pushed her thumb down, pressing upwards with her fingers, willing Brittany to come around them. And Brittany did, clenching Santana's fingers as she arched, wailing Santana's name and plunging Santana into another fit of ecstasy.

Santana collapsed on top of her, still gasping for air. "Fuck," she grinned. "Why haven't we been using that tub more often?"

Brittany chuckled. "The water makes everything more intense, doesn't it?"

Santana nodded against Brittany's chest, her wet hair clinging to it and feeling slightly scratchy against her cheek.

When their breathing had steadied, Brittany lifted the edge of one of the towels to dry off Santana's back, patting it through her hair and wiping the sweat off her forehead. "You look really sexy," she murmured, her words slurring together in her sex-induced fatigue.

Santana chuckled, lifting the corner of a towel to wipe droplets off Brittany's arm. "You too." She brought her lips to Brittany's, feeling the damp skin of their torsos sticking together. She kissed Brittany until they were both so tired they fell asleep, naked, damp, and happy.

* * *

><p>They woke the next morning tangled in a mess of towels and sheets, ravenously hungry. They ordered room service, Santana donning a robe only for the purpose of answering the door. She shed it as soon as the door shut and they lay in bed naked, sunshine pouring through the window as they ate and giggling at the tangled messes their wet hair had formed while they slept.<p>

Santana gazed out the window, mellowing in the joy of knowing she would soon be able to wake up next to Brittany every morning.

"You know what we should do today?" Santana asked.

"Hm?"

"We should go look for a new place. _Our_ place."

Brittany grinned. "We finally get to free all our stuff from the storage unit."

"Where do you want to live?"

"Anywhere," Brittany shrugged. "As long as it's with you. I've pretty much decided on Mt. Carmel for nursing school. So anywhere in Columbus works for me."

"Maybe in a cute little neighborhood with lots of nice restaurants and shops we can walk to? Or near the Mt. Carmel campus?"

"Maybe…" Brittany mused. "How long do you think we'll be living in our next place?"

"Who knows? We were in our place in New Haven for three years. Moving sucks, so I'd like to stay put."

"That sounds good. I'm ready to settle down too. Do you think… do you think we could maybe get a two bedroom?"

"Sure," Santana shrugged. "Why?"

"Well…" Brittany hesitated. "I've been thinking… We've been talking about our future a lot, legal forms and getting married and the rest of our lives and happily ever after… and I realized that we still haven't talked about…" she bit her lip for a moment, "kids."

"Oh," Santana said with a shy grin. She adored Brittany's roundabout way of bringing things up, even if it had taken her years to figure out when Brittany was hinting. "So… you want a new place with a bedroom and a _nursery_."

Brittany gave a little nod as she returned Santana's shy smile. "Do you… do you _want_ kids?" she asked hopefully, lifting the ring on its chain around Santana's neck and playing with it gently.

"Definitely," Santana replied, turning onto her side so she could look Brittany directly in the eyes.

"Really?" Brittany asked in delight. Her eyes sparkled.

"Mm hm." Santana nodded. "It's funny we never talked about it, 'cuz I just assumed. Of _course_ I want a family with you. You're gonna be a wonderful mom," she said, gazing down at Brittany in adoration.

"How many?" Brittany asked, beaming.

"A hundred," Santana teased, tossing her hair flamboyantly.

"Ack! I'm not a clown car!" Brittany laughed, twisting on her back and tickling Santana.

Santana laughed and batted Brittany's hand away. "Who says _you're_ gonna be the one to pop them out?"

"What, _you_ want to?"

"Well, it's not terribly appealing, but I guess if I _had_ to..."

"My point exactly. I'm totally game for carrying our lady babies. For real though, how many?" Brittany repeated.

Santana glanced up and to the side in thought. "Two," she said, meeting Brittany's eyes again. "So they have someone to play with. I didn't like growing up alone."

"_Perfect_," Brittany agreed.

Santana kissed Brittany on the nose. "No, _you're_ perfect."

Brittany captured her lips, the playful mood dissipating as she ran her hand up Santana's arm and tangled her fingers in her messy hair. Their tongues danced together for a minute before Santana pulled back and asked, "When were you thinking of having them?"

Before Brittany could answer, Santana's phone rang. She debated letting it go to voicemail, but thought perhaps she should check to see who it was, since not many people would call on a weekday morning without a good reason. She lifted the phone off the nightstand and saw it was Denton. Pulling a sheet over her bare chest and mouthing a sincere _sorry_ to Brittany, she sat up and answered it.

"Hey, Denton. What's up?" she asked, pinching the bridge of her nose as she tried to sound alert.

She listened for a moment, nodding even though he couldn't see her. About twenty seconds into the call, her shoulders slumped.

"Okay… see you in an hour." She hung up, tossing the phone into the sheets and slumping down against the pillow.

"What did he say?" Brittany asked, looking concerned.

"Well, it looks like you and I have some more legal documents we need to file," Santana muttered, evading the question.

"…Why?" Brittany asked with a grimace.

"The committee reviewing SB 61 just rejected the bill."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'd love to hear your thoughts in the form of a review.**


	54. I Hope Tomorrow Is Like Today

**Chapter 54 "I Hope Tomorrow Is Like Today"**

Chapter title song and **soundtrack**: "I Hope Tomorrow is Like Today" by Guster

* * *

><p><strong>AN: As always, thank you to my lovely betas, Mia and terriblemuriel.**

* * *

><p>"So what does that mean?" Brittany asked, her eyebrows knit in concern as she scooted closer to Santana on the bed, trying to comfort her. "What does it mean that the bill was rejected? Are we… are we not gonna be able to get married anytime soon?"<p>

"I don't know," Santana mumbled, staring at the ceiling. Her whole body felt weighted down with the news, and further burdened by the look on Brittany's face. "We still have a few months to make revisions and resubmit the bill before this assembly session closes, but there's no guarantee… ugh, I knew this might happen, but that doesn't make it any less disappointing. I know some of the assembly members are jerks, but that bill was _solid_."

"Well... look at the bright side," Brittany said, her tone betraying that she was trying to convince herself too. "At least you're employed for a little longer."

"Yeah…" Santana sighed. "At least we have that." She reached for Brittany's hand and gave it a lackluster squeeze.

Brittany kissed Santana's shoulder and Santana gave her a sad smile. "But now I have to go to work instead of spending the morning with you, and I was _really_ looking forward to that. Will you be able to entertain yourself today?"

"Sure. I'll hang out with Carlos or maybe look around for a job."

Santana kissed Brittany's forehead. "We'll have dinner together tonight, k?"

Brittany nodded against her shoulder before Santana lugged herself out of bed to get ready for work.

* * *

><p>"So why is this lunch so important?" Elinor frowned as they walked down the hall at the start of their lunch hour a week later. "We already debriefed the press conference with Denton and Marcía. I doubt you and I are going to come up with anything new."<p>

"Oh, I know. It's just an excuse to get you out," Santana said with a smug grin. "Here, put this on," she instructed, handing Elinor a tube of lipstick. "And you have a clump of mascara in your left eyelash."

"Why does it matter?" Elinor frowned, "It's just you."

"_Actually…_ there will be someone else there," Santana said, her grin growing even more smug.

"Who?"

Santana let her smirk widen as she kept Elinor in suspense for a few seconds. "Danielle."

"You didn't," Elinor uttered under her breath, stopping in her tracks.

"Oh, I did," Santana said, taking Elinor's elbow and urging her along.

"How did you _know_?" Elinor asked.

"Because I have eyes. You were practically drooling onto the table last week."

"I don't know if I hate you or love you right now," Elinor muttered as they walked outside into the sunshine.

"Really? Seems to me the answer's pretty obvious," Santana shrugged.

* * *

><p>The "debriefing" lunch was great at first. Elinor, Danielle, and Santana ordered appetizers to share instead of main courses. They talked about the press conference, but Santana steered the conversation to other things, too. Elinor was quieter than usual, and Santana was amused to see that she was so intimidated by Danielle. Santana debated taking a page from Brittany's matchmaking book and ducking out, but she decided to stay as backup when she saw how nervous Elinor was. She had <em>never<em> seen Elinor so shy and unsure before. She thought that might be a sign that this was a true match of equals.

"So where did you go to college?" Elinor asked.

"I went to UMich. That's where I met my husband." Danielle answered.

Out of the corner of her eye Santana saw Elinor's shoulders slump a fraction of an inch.

"Your husband?" Santana frowned, looking at Danielle's left hand. She had made a point to check if Danielle was wearing a ring, and she still didn't see one. There wasn't even a tanline around the base of her ring finger. "I didn't know you were married," Santana said, trying to sound casual and chipper.

"I'm a widow. My husband was killed by a drunk driver four years ago. Now it's just me and Eliza and Andrew."

"Oh god, I'm sorry… I didn't know…" Santana stammered.

"That's okay, I brought it up. If it makes even one person reconsider before getting behind the wheel after a drink or two, it's worth talking about. The kids were so little they took it in stride. Once in a while they ask about him, but they're pretty used to our little setup with just the three of us."

"Wow… I can't even imagine…" Santana stammered. "I didn't know you had kids. How old are they?"

"Andrew's seven and Eliza is four. She was just a few months old when it happened."

"That's _awful_. I'm so sorry," Santana said.

Seeing Elinor's disappointment, however subtle, Santana steered the conversation toward more neutral topics: how Danielle became a publicist, how long she'd been working for Marcía, and fun things to do in Columbus.

As they were leaving the restaurant, they bid farewell to Danielle and walked back toward the office.

"Well, so much for that one," Elinor sighed, shaking her head.

"She could be bisexual," Santana offered. "It's not 'straight until proven gay,' you know." She felt like Brittany, looking for the silver lining in a thundercloud.

"Yeah, but she has _kids_, and the whole dead husband thing… I bet she's not looking for anything right now. I wouldn't be."

"But you're _not_ her. I _saw_ the way she was looking at you that day in the office. She was looking at you the same way today, too. She likes you. You should call her and see if she wants to hang out. Maybe take her kids to the park or something."

"Maybe…" Elinor shrugged, looking at the ground.

"C'mon, where's the confident-bordering-on-cocky Elinor I know?"

Elinor let out a lackluster chuckle. "I guess I'm just getting discouraged."

"Don't get discouraged. If anything, all the ladies out there should be discouraged that they're missing out on your awesomeness."

Elinor tried to smile as they approached the office building. When they reached the front door, Elinor stopped with her hand on the door. "Can I tell you something?" she asked.

"Anything," Santana invited.

Elinor paused before sidelining them to a sturdy metal bench outside the building. She sat and Santana followed, waiting for Elinor to speak. They sat for a moment, watching a few pigeons peck at crumbs on the ground.

"What she said about the drunk driver really bothered me," Elinor began. "I mean, you know I always get a cab… but what if it was Sophie? I know she would drive sometimes when she shouldn't have. I feel like I should have been able to stop her."

"Aw, babe…" Santana cooed, wrapping an arm around Elinor's shoulders. "You know it wasn't Sophie. You two were living in New Haven when Danielle's husband was killed. And you can't be responsible for another adult, especially an alcoholic."

"I know… and I've made my peace with the Sophie thing for the most part… As much as I can, I guess. But I still wonder why love wasn't enough to make her stop."

Santana tilted her head onto Elinor's shoulder in sympathy. "I don't know, babe… I wish I could tell you."

"I mean, on the one hand, love's the most powerful thing in the world, right? But on the other, love's not omnipotent. There are things that can come between two people and destroy it. It would be easier knowing love was untouchable."

"Nothing's untouchable, El," Santana said as she squeezed her shoulder. "I learned that when Britt left. But don't give up. I know there's someone out there for you."

Elinor sighed. "I keep telling myself it doesn't matter when I find her, as long as I get there eventually."

"It's true," Santana encouraged. "Because there's _no_ way you'll end up alone."

"I hope you're right…"

They sat there for a few minutes, quietly watching the pigeons and a few people walk by. Santana was just about to sigh and say they should be heading back inside when Elinor fished her phone out of her purse, unlocking the screen to read a message. Santana heard her exhale into a smile.

"What?" Santana inquired.

Elinor paused as she tucked the phone back into her purse.

"Danielle just invited me out for coffee this weekend."

* * *

><p>Santana's entire body hurt. There were muscles screaming in her back she previously didn't know existed. She winced as she bent down to open a box, tearing off the tape and opening the flaps. "Remind me again why we didn't hire movers?" she whined, slowly straightening up to place a stack of books on the shelf she and Brittany had just assembled.<p>

"Because we're badasses who don't need men to lift heavy things for us," Brittany chirped, pushing a box of dishes into the kitchen.

"I know, but it would have been nice to just sit and watch them move our shit while we did our nails."

"Movers are expensive, Santana. We can't just go spending money all willy-nilly when we don't know how much longer you're going to be employed," Brittany said, walking back into the living room with her hands on her hips. "I feel like this place is too fancy for us without a financial safety net."

"You just got a job, though," Santana said cheerfully. A week earlier Brittany had come bounding into their hotel room, ecstatic that a family had hired her to do in-home PT assistance work with their five-year-old boy who had autism and cerebral palsy. Over the past week she had done a few sessions with him and declared herself absolutely enamored with the child.

"Working five hours a week won't pay the rent," Brittany said, shooting Santana a pointed look. "It will barely cover my textbooks for a semester."

Santana shrugged and continued stacking books. "When the bill is done I'm sure I'll find something. Don't worry. Aren't you happy we got a second bedroom?" she asked with a sidelong smile. She didn't call it the nursery; they hadn't talked about kids since that first conversation had been interrupted several weeks before.

"Of course," Brittany smiled as she walked over to Santana, reaching into the box to help place the books on the shelf. "I guess I'm just cautious." After filling the top shelf, she reached back into the box as she said, "There's something I want to talk to you about." Santana could tell she was trying to sound casual.

"Okay," Santana said, placing more books on the shelf with an expectant grin.

"Remember when I came back to New Haven and I told you that I was going to be on my antidepressants for six months?"

Santana was surprised at the direction of the conversation, but went with it anyway. "Uh huh."

"Well, since my dad had a stroke and everything, Dr. Lisa and I didn't think it would be a good idea to transition off them when the six months was up. But it's been almost a year now, and in my last session before I moved here we talked about it, and I decided I want to go for it."

"Okay..." Santana said with a hint of hesitation in her voice.

"But I wanted to talk to you about it first, because my depression had such a big impact on us. If I even _start _heading in that direction again, we'll reevaluate. I don't want a repeat of what happened before any more than you do."

"Hmm… how does the transition work?"

"At first I just decrease the dosage a little bit and see how that goes. Then I start taking it every other day, then cut the dosage again, and keep going like that until I'm not taking it at all. Dr. Lisa said for this particular medication it takes about a month."

"Do you think things are different enough now that you'll be okay?"

"Definitely. Things are good with my family _and_ with me. Dad may not be walking yet, but his speech is great and his PT says he's progressing well. I've got my new job, I'm running, and in a few months I'm starting school... I have lots of things to keep me active and happy. And of course things are solid with you and me," Brittany said with a big, adoring smile.

Santana gave a little nod, examining the bookshelf. Brittany had a good point; if there was a good time phase out the medication, it was now. Nevertheless, Santana was nervous. "I mean, it makes me a little scared because I never want to lose you again. But you're right; our situation is much better now. Of course I'll support you. Just let me know how."

"Let's keep doing our weekly check-ins, and if I don't bring it up, I want _you_ to. I'm not always good at bringing stuff up."

"Okay, I'll do that. Did you check with Dr. Epstein too?"

"Of course. He said it was fine to start the transition and to call him in a few weeks and let him know how it's going."

"Okay…" Santana repeated. She had obvious reservation, but wanted to be supportive. "Is there a particular reason you want to stop taking them now?"

Brittany shrugged. "I feel like we're settled and I've got lots to look forward to." She bent to pick up another handful of books. "And I'd have to go off them eventually… when we want to have kids."

"Oh," Santana said, biting the corner of her lip as she tried to suppress a smile. So Brittany _had_ been talking about kids, in her roundabout way. It had just taken Santana a little while to catch up.

They finished stacking the books and Brittany flattened the box. She walked into the kitchen to start unpacking the dishes.

"Hey B?" Santana called after her.

"Yeah?" Brittany responded, poking her head back out into the living room.

"I know you don't like bringing stuff up, but I love it when you do," Santana said with a wink.

"Okay," Brittany said with a shy smile. "I'll remember that." She went back into the kitchen and began unpacking the dishes.

* * *

><p>"Tell me everything," Santana demanded, catching up to Elinor in the hall as they walked into work the following Monday. "How was the date?"<p>

"Good morning to you too," Elinor greeted. "All moved in?"

"Ugh, hardly. We have hundreds of boxes to unpack and every muscle in my body feels like it spent the weekend being pummeled by an angry amateur boxer. But how was the date?"

"I don't know if it was a date," Elinor hedged with a smile. "But she did tell me I looked really pretty."

"Sounds like a date to me." Santana pointed towards the break room. "Coffee?" she asked.

Elinor nodded and they bypassed their office, setting their briefcases on the rickety break room table as they poured and mixed their coffee. "Danielle told me something really interesting about her marriage," Elinor volunteered.

"What?"

"Well… when she met her husband in college, he was a woman."

Santana's hand stopped stirring cream into her coffee. "What?" Of course she knew about transgendered people – she had spoken to hundreds of high school students about trans issues with Speakers' Bureau in college. Still, this piece of information took her by complete surprise.

"You heard me."

"Wow. How do you feel about that?" Santana asked, resuming her mixing as she added two packets of sugar.

"Well, I know she's not straight," Elinor shrugged. "Other than that, I don't really care."

"Yeah… so wait, they started dating as women?"

"For a while, yeah. At least physically, since, ya know, he always felt like a man."

"So they were married..." Santana pondered as she blew on her coffee to cool it. "Was it legal?"

"She didn't say and I didn't want to pry." Elinor tapped her stir stick against the rim of her cup, tossed it in the trash and leaned against the counter. "It's rude to ask if he had reassignment surgery, but if he did have the surgery and then legally changed his gender, it would have been a legal marriage."

"Huh... so if a trans person is straight and they legally change their gender, they can get married. Isn't that kind of ironic, since gay people can't?"

"It is, but trans people have so few rights to begin with, I can't really hold a grudge."

"True. So is Danielle bi?" Santana asked, blowing on her coffee.

"Pansexual."

"Hey, just like Britt!" Santana smiled.

Elinor smiled and nodded.

"Your coffee was _definitely_ a date," Santana said with conviction.

"You think?"

"Two single women who like women flirting over coffee? That's a date," Santana stated.

Elinor grinned. "Yeah… it did _kind of_ seem like a date. But to be honest, I didn't know what pansexuality was, even after knowing Brittany all these years. She doesn't sit people down and explain it, you know? So I thought it was just another word for bisexual. But Danielle had a wonderful way of explaining it."

"Yeah?"

"She doesn't look at gender the way most people do. She loves _people_, and the specifics of their body and internal sense of being male or female doesn't matter to her. She finds lots of things attractive."

"Yeah, that's what Britt says too. But I keep trying to convince her that since we're engaged she's just Santanasexual now."

"Everyone's Santanasexual to you," Elinor said, rolling her eyes.

"But hey, I was right, wasn't I? I told you Danielle wasn't straight!" Santana said, giving Elinor a nudge on the shoulder. "She sounds really… _evolved_ and shit."

"Yeah," Elinor grinned. "It was a good date."

"Just 'good'?"

"No, more like awesome. I _really_ like her, Santana," she said with a wistful smile. "She's _so_ smart and I can tell she's a fantastic mom. She's poised and elegant and witty and gracious…"

"Does she also have the power of flight and the ability to give you multiple orgasms with her mind?" Santana teased, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Probably. I'm just worried I'm going to mess it up."

"You won't mess it up. Do you really need a pep talk? Because you've _got_ this. You're Elinor Freaking Kelley."

"I just need to take her on a really great second date."

"Take her to the Columbus Art Museum next weekend. They have a 'cocktails and jazz' thing every month; Britt and I went once. It's not really my thing, but _she_ loved it. Danielle seems like a classy lady, I bet she'd like it."

"Yeah but what would she do with her kids?"

"What did she do with them when you had coffee?"

"They had a play date."

"So she could find a play date for them."

Elinor frowned in amusement. "Kids don't have play dates at night."

"Right… well, I'll see if maybe Britt could babysit."

"Oh, that's an _awesome_ idea! Brittany's like, the child whisperer or something."

"I know. The boy she's working with adores her."

"She got a job?"

"Yeah, she started doing PT assisting with this little boy who has autism and cerebral palsy and she _loves_ it. She hasn't worked in a couple of years and I think it's a big relief to her. This kid doesn't usually like to be touched, even his parents, but he's okay with her touching him most of the time. He even gave her a hug the other day."

"She's everyone's exception, huh?" Elinor said, straightening up and picking up her briefcase.

"Something like that," Santana smiled, mimicking Elinor's actions as they turned back toward their office. "Now we just gotta make sure you're on top of your game wooing _yours_."

* * *

><p>A month later, June 2020<p>

* * *

><p>"What's up, Denton?" Santana asked, sliding into the extra conference room across the hall from Marcía's office. It was chilly at this hour, even in June.<p>

"Santana, come on in!" Denton cheered. "Sit down."

Santana took a seat. It was weird to meet here, especially first thing Monday morning. When she'd seen the memo on her computer, she'd been nervous. Usually they chatted in the lunchroom or over a beer after work at the pub down the street.

"As you know, SB 61 goes back before committee next week, and I wanted to talk to you about your performance thus far," Denton began, leaning forward across the table.

"What about it?" Santana asked. She was suddenly worried; had she been slacking? Was she riding on Elinor's coattails too heavily? Did she even deserve to be there? And why was _Denton_ bringing it up? He wasn't her boss – Marcía was.

"I've been very impressed," Denton said, dipping his head to emphasize his point. "So much so that once this bill is finished, my consulting firm would like to hire you to do our administrative legal work."

Santana was dumbfounded. "_Me_?" she gaped.

Denton laughed. "None other. The woman in the position right now is leaving to do a little traveling and relocate her aging parents. I know you're young and you still have your training wheels on, so to speak, but I think you'd be excellent. You'll give us your youthful energy, and we'll give you a chance to prove your chops. The pay is good and the benefits can't be topped."

"_Holy_… I can't even… Yes. YES! I'm in!" Santana jumped up from her chair and ran around the table to give Denton a hug. She pulled back. "Sorry! Sorry, that was unprofessional. _Thank_ you."

"C'mere, Santana," Denton chuckled, extending his arms to her. "It's okay to hug. I'm not your boss yet."

"You'll be my _boss_?"

"Yeah, watch out. I'm _hell_ to work for," he winked.

"Liar," Santana smiled as she gave him a big hug. It felt like she imagined hugging a big brother would feel like, kind of like hugging Carlos. She felt cared for and protected, and not sexualized in the least. That was new to her – in the past men always had ulterior motives when they got close to her.

When they pulled away Denton smiled and said, "So, you ready for your very own office?"

"I get my own office?" Santana asked, her eyes wide in delight.

Denton nodded. "Right across the hall from me. So I can keep my eye on you," he smirked.

"I've never had that before… I was always put in a cubicle." Santana looked at Denton and shook her head as she blinked. "This is amazing! Thank you!"

"My pleasure, Santana. You make me feel like Santa Claus. Only, you know, Jewish," he grinned. He nodded toward the door. "Go call Brittany."

* * *

><p>Two weeks later, Santana awoke to the sound of her phone buzzing on the nightstand of their new apartment. Brittany lay sound asleep next to her, undisturbed by the two-toned electronic hum of plastic against wood. Santana propped herself up and reached for the phone just as it stopped vibrating. Rather than seeing a missed call like she expected, there were no fewer than five text messages, all of which had been received in the past few minutes. She read the first before placing the phone back on the nightstand and rolling over, pulling Brittany close to her.<p>

"Britt," she whispered, her smile just inches from Brittany's cheek. "Britt, baby, wake up," she urged, wrapping her hand over Brittany's ribs and rocking her back and forth a little bit.

"Mhh..." Brittany groaned, trying to roll out from under Santana's hand.

"Sweetheart, wake up," Santana urged, peppering kisses over Brittany's face. After Santana kissed her eyelids, Brittany opened her eyes.

"What?" Brittany mumbled.

"The assembly passed the bill on to the state Senate," Santana said, barely able to keep her voice low.

Brittany's eyes widened, looking up at Santana in delight. "Really?" she whispered.

Santana's smile was a mile wide as she nodded vigorously.

Brittany clutched at the ring that hung around Santana's neck. "Am I dreaming?" she asked, still a little groggy as she wrapped her other arm around Santana's back.

"Nope."

"So if the senate approves it and the governor doesn't veto it, we can get married?" Brittany asked, eyes widening even more.

"Uh huh," Santana smiled.

Brittany pulled Santana down on top of her and Santana melted into her, smiling as Brittany kissed her, surrendering to their happiness.


	55. Should've Known Better

**Chapter 55 – Should've Known Better**

Chapter title song and **soundtrack**: "Should've Known Better" by Nickel Creek

**A/N: Surprise! Mid-week update for my wonderful, sweet readers. This long weekend was good for my writing and bad for my coursework. Thank you to my lovely betas, Mia and terriblemuriel, and my proofreader Emma's 409.**

* * *

><p>July 2020<p>

* * *

><p>Santana walked back into her new office after lunch. Things had been solid with Brittany since her return almost a year ago, and Brittany's transition off her antidepressants had been seamless. So far Santana adored working for Denton; he was just as witty and upbeat at his own consulting firm as he had been while they were working on the marriage bill. Working for him almost made up for the mundane nature of the work itself. Going over contracts and sexual harassment complaints wasn't entirely mundane, but it wasn't the riveting work of a trial lawyer Santana had always pictured for herself. She shut her office door, sat at her desk, and reached for her cell phone. She was pondering what to make Brittany for dinner that night, thinking she would text her and ask if she had any preferences, but before she could unlock the screen, there was a knock at the door. "Come in!" she called.<p>

Elinor poked her head in, looking sheepish.

"Hey!" Santana exclaimed. "What are you doing on this side of town?"

"I was in the area interviewing for a new job," Elinor explained. "Got a minute?"

"Always for you, babe," Santana said, lifting her palms up to the side in a welcoming gesture.

"I need to talk to someone."

"Okay, shoot," Santana invited, leaning back in her chair and putting her feet on her desk. "Dr. Lopez is in."

Elinor tried to chuckle but it sounded like a wince.

"Is that paralegal from Walters & Associates still hitting on you via Facebook?" Santana joked.

"What? No…" Elinor said as she sat in the chair next to Santana's desk.

"Okay, so what is it?"

"I'm uh… I have this… Oh God, I don't even know how to say this…" Elinor covered her face with her hands. "I'm…"

"Articulate?" Santana smiled, teasing. "Just spit it out, El. It's me."

Elinor winced. "I'm worried I got something." She looked at the carpet.

"Got something?" Santana frowned.

There was a moment of dead silence.

"Oh _shit_," Santana finally muttered. "From Danielle?"

"No!" Elinor frowned. "We haven't slept together yet. Her life is complicated and we're taking it _slow_."

"So…" Santana searched Elinor's face for an explanation.

Elinor glanced up at Santana, pursing her lips with the guiltiest of expressions.

"You're still _fucking_ her?"

"_No_! No."

"You broke up in September…" Santana asked, squinting at Elinor. "It's July."

"I had a little… slip up. The night before you went ape shit on her in Marcía's office."

"El!"

"Don't reprimand me, Santana. I'm not a child," Elinor said, pressing her hands to her face.

Santana clenched her fists. "I swear to god, if that bitch gave you something I will fucking _cut_ her-"

"Stop," Elinor said, raising a hand. "This is not the time for 'Cosas Malas Lopez' to start hulking out. I just need a _friend_."

Santana pursed her lips and huffed. "Sorry."

"I needed to talk to someone because I can't focus on _anything_ else. I'm pretty sure the interview I just did was a train wreck."

"Oh, geez... Have you gone to the doctor?"

"I have an appointment tomorrow. I'm just totally freaking out. Like… what if I do? Then I've just totally screwed myself over for the _rest_ of my life! Let's say things are getting steamy with Danielle; I'm gonna have to be like 'hold on, I have to tell you about this awesome thing I've got called herpes.' No one feels sexy after that conversation. It's a pretty big buzzkill."

"No kidding. Shit, El, I'm sorry!"

"Danielle's been calling and I don't want her to think I'm not interested, but I'm having a hard time sounding like I am because I'm freaking out. And we're supposed to go out this weekend and I just don't know if I'll be able to focus and enjoy her company. I mean, these symptoms might not be what I think they are, but… I probably won't sleep until I know something."

"Oh god… I wouldn't be able to sleep either. Is there anything I can do?"

"Would you… would you come with me?" Elinor asked, her voice small and uncertain. "Not into the _exam_ room. Just… you know, to the office?"

"Of course. What time tomorrow?"

"Two o'clock."

"Great. I'll take a late lunch. Want me to pick you up?"

"That would be awesome."

"Well, you know me. And I will fucking _kill_ Jordan if she gave you something."

* * *

><p>"God, I feel like such a whore filling this out," Elinor whispered. "These questions are killing me. 'Marital status: single,' 'Have you had unprotected sex in the past year?' Yes. 'How many partners have you had in the past year?' Four."<p>

"Four?"

"I had a few one-night stands right after Jordan and I first broke up in September... moving on... 'Have you been tested for HIV in the past year?' No. 'Have you ever had an abnormal pap smear?' Once in law school but everything was fine."

"Well, at least you get to check 'no' next to the intravenous drug use box," Santana quipped. "That's encouraging."

"Oh, I didn't tell you? I took up heroin while I was with Jordan," Elinor deadpanned.

Santana snickered and gave her a soft punch on the shoulder. "Hey, after we're done here we can go egg her car if you want."

Elinor gave her a disapproving look. "I think if you're caught egging someone's car after you turn thirty they question you a lot more intensely than they do if you're in your teens or twenties."

"So revenge stops being acceptable when you're old and gray like you?"

"No," Elinor smirked, rolling her eyes. "You just have to find more subtle ways to do it."

Just then the nurse called Elinor's name and Elinor stood up, picking up her purse and raising her eyebrows at Santana in a nervous 'here goes nothing' expression.

Santana gave her a reassuring smile. "Good luck," she whispered, standing and giving Elinor a quick hug.

Elinor walked through the door and Santana sat back down, picking up a copy of _Teen Vogue_. It wouldn't have been her first choice, but her other options were _Good Housekeeping_, _Men's Health_ – though why this was placed in the OB/GYN department was unclear – and _Parenting Today_. As she flipped through _Teen Vogue_, she came to an article about safe sex. She was about to turn the page as she scanned the article that was peppered with images of various forms of birth control – condoms, Pill cases, cervical caps and tubes of spermicidal jelly – but sitting in the OB/GYN lobby while Elinor had an STD exam gave her a different perspective on this 'incredibly informative' article. As she read the familiar pros and cons of each form of birth control, she was stunned that the letters "STD" only appeared once. _Once_. In the whole freaking article. Come to think of it, most articles and pamphlets she had ever read had a similar overtone.

Despite frequenting the women's health clinic in Lima during high school, Santana had never seen information on safe _lesbian_ sex. Because pregnancy wasn't an issue for lesbians and because Lima was, well, _Lima_, the focus of every pamphlet and sex ed class had been on heterosexual intercourse and how to prevent pregnancy. Lesbian sex – or god forbid, gay _male_ sex – was left out entirely, and STDs were always mentioned as an afterthought. Santana thought that was totally backwards. If she had gotten pregnant back when she was sleeping with men – well, boys – she would have had options. But what if she had contracted herpes? She would have had _no_ options. She could have hired a babysitter to take care of a child while she went on a date, but as far as she knew, there was no way to hire a babysitter to watch a case of herpes so she could go parking.

Santana hadn't had to think about safe sex in a long time. Her days of condoms, pills and routine STD screenings were long over. But even after having been with Brittany for almost nine years, she couldn't help but feel shaken by what was happening to Elinor. Santana had always thought – however irrationally – that STDs were something that happened to _other _people. Yeah, Quinn had gotten knocked up in high school, but other than that, the consequences of not being safe always seemed far removed from her. Now they were uncomfortably close. It was hard to believe Elinor – _Elinor_, the girl who had taught Santana so much about being gay – was in the exam room getting tested for an STD. Elinor was one of the smartest people Santana knew, but she still hadn't taken precautions when she 'slipped up' with her ex. Now she was paying the price.

Elinor didn't seem like the only one in this situation. There were several women around the waiting room who seemed to be waiting for test results; they were shifting in their seats and glancing at the pamphlets on treating STDs that lined the wall. There were women from all walks of life: a woman wearing slacks and a button-down, a frightened student in logo sweats, and even a woman wearing a tailored suit and heels. Judging by the nonplussed attitudes of the nurses and doctors, this was just an average day in the OB/GYN office.

Having grown thoroughly annoyed with the artless simplicity of _Teen Vogue_, Santana tossed the magazine on the table and picked up _Parenting Today_. Pictures of adorable babies crawled over every page next to articles about potty training, early discipline, and nutrition. She was just about to begin reading an article on 'Scary Additives in Fruit Roll-Ups' when Elinor reemerged from the hallway with a smile on her face. Santana looked up with an inquisitive expression. She didn't want to ask what had happened in the exam room in front of other people, but she was anxious to hear how it had gone. She set down her magazine, picked up her purse and stood up, returning Elinor's smile.

"All clear," Elinor said under her breath. "Just a scare."

Santana exhaled and tipped her head back in relief. "Thank _god_," she sighed. "That must have been terrifying."

"You have _no_ idea," Elinor muttered as they walked into the hallway out of the OB/GYN department and into the elevator.

When the doors closed, Santana asked, "So wait, how did you find out so quickly? Don't the tests usually take a few days to come back?"

"My gyno could just tell by looking."

"What a marketable skill _that_ must be."

Elinor chuckled and continued, "She read me the riot act on safe sex, though."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. All sorts of stuff about dental dams and gloves and things no one thinks are sexy. She even said if I don't have a dental dam, I should just cut a condom open and use that. _Why_ would I have a condom? I haven't slept with a man since I was in college. Anyway, she said Saran Wrap works fine too."

"Wait, really?" Santana frowned. "I remember doing a lab in undergrad bio that proved viruses and bacteria can get through Saran Wrap but not latex. I mean, Saran Wrap is better than nothing, but it's not foolproof."

"Hmm... Someone should tell my doctor that," Elinor said as the elevator door opened.

"Well, she's probably straight and doesn't spend a lot of time thinking about lesbian sex," Santana muttered.

"True. Plus no one uses dental dams. They're kind of a joke."

"I know, but why are people making a joke out of something that could save them a lot of grief? Maybe we wouldn't have had to make this trip if people took it _seriously_."

"You've got that crazy look in your eye," Elinor said, raising an eyebrow at Santana as they walked through the automatic doors into the sunshine and toward Santana's car.

"What look?"

"Like you're about to start a campaign or something. Which, of course, I'm all for," Elinor laughed. "You know what I was thinking about on the way here?" she asked. "I was thinking that it's so weird that no one talks about STDs. Or STIs or whatever they're called now. I mean, how many girls do you know that have talked about a pregnancy scare or an actual pregnancy with you?"

"Like a hundred."

"And how many people have talked to you about an STD scare or an STD with you?"

"You would be the first."

"Exactly! But sex and STDs go together for everyone, and sex and pregnancy only go together for straight, fertile people. The way we think about 'being safe' is pretty messed up."

"I was thinking the same thing, actually."

Elinor continued, "I get that people associate STDs with being dirty or slutty or whatever and they don't like to talk about them, but we need to get over that. Most people in the world have sex. It doesn't matter how many people you sleep with, there's _always_ a risk. Why is it such a big deal to talk about?"

"Mm hm," Santana said, unlocking her car and getting inside. "I wish it wasn't as big a deal to talk about. You were so flustered when you came to tell me yesterday I thought you were gonna tell me you'd killed someone and needed help burying the body."

Elinor chuckled and nodded.

"For the record, I _would_ help you bury a body, state Bar membership be damned."

"Such a good friend…" Elinor said, shaking her head.

Santana smiled as they put on their seat belts. "So… you don't have to answer if it's too personal, but what did the doctor say was going on? Because there aren't that many things that imitate herpes."

"Let's just say that sometimes razor burn can be... extreme."

Santana stifled a chuckle as she started the car.

"Don't laugh!" Elinor threatened with a smile.

"I'm sorry," Santana snickered. "Razor burn sucks, but it sure beats the hell out of herpes. And I'm _so_ happy to know your personal grooming habits, Miss Kelley."

"_So_, on to another topic," Elinor blushed, "I saw you were reading _Parenting Today_."

"Oh is _that_ what it was? I was wondering why there were articles on baby sign language in Maxim."

"Don't get cheeky with me," Elinor smirked. "Are you and Brittany thinking about it?"

"Yeah," Santana said casually, giving a little shrug as she turned to look as she backed the car out of the parking space. "We know we want to."

"Are you gonna have your own or adopt?"

"We haven't talked about it that much, but Britt said she wants to carry our kids."

"God, she's gonna be the most adorable pregnant lady in the _world_," Elinor said.

Santana gave Elinor a shy smile and nodded.

"You should talk to Danielle," Elinor suggested. "Since her husband was trans, they had to go about starting their family the same way you will. Or at least considering the same options."

"I hadn't thought of that. I'll mention it to Britt," Santana said as she began driving out of the parking lot. "Hey, is she babysitting for Danielle's kids this weekend?"

"Yep. I'm taking Danielle to dinner at Bexly Monk."

"_Someone's_ trying to impress her!" Santana remarked.

Elinor grinned. "She's worth it."

"You thinkin' you might finally get lucky with her?" Santana asked with a smirk.

"Hopefully," Elinor smiled back.

"That explains the razor burn, you little minx…" Santana teased. "I'll keep my fingers crossed for you and tell Britt to slip the kids some NyQuil so they sleep _really_ soundly. Are you going to offer Danielle a variety of flavored dental dams?"

"Nope. I'm going to tell her I've been tested recently and the results came back negative. And then I'll ask if she's been tested recently, and if not, _then_ I'll pull out the dental dams. If she doesn't think it's sexy, too bad for her. I'm never going through that again."

"Good girl," Santana said, patting Elinor's knee. "You have my blessing."

* * *

><p>"Tell us everything," Brittany said, eager to hear as she slid into a chair next to Elinor, clutching her frozen coffee drink.<p>

"Not _everything_," Santana amended as she sat down across from them with a latte. "A summary would suffice."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to give you a play-by-play. Give me a little credit for respecting Danielle's privacy," Elinor said with an amused frown.

"Darn," Brittany said with a look of mock disappointment. "Well I guess a descriptive recap will do."

"Well, business first. I got a job!" Elinor squealed.

"Really!" Santana exclaimed. "Which one?"

"The one I interviewed for that same day I came to visit you at Denton's. Squire Sanders."

"The one you thought you blew?" Santana asked with a smile.

"Yep. Isn't that funny how sometimes you do well when you think you sucked?"

"Happens all the time," Santana said, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Okay, so yay job, wooo!" Brittany said. "But back to the sex with Danielle."

"It was good," Elinor said with smile and a shrug.

"Just 'good'?" Santana asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I mean, it's not like the first time is ever the best. We're still figuring each other out, and I get self-conscious about my body and wonder if _she's_ enjoying it as much as I am and all that noise in my head… You two haven't had to think about all that in ten years."

"Nine," Santana corrected.

"Whatever. I mean, for a first time, it was wonderful. There was definitely that emotional connection. But physically, I know it'll get better."

"That it will. You've got the marathon phase coming up," Brittany said with a goofy grin. "Remember that, S?"

"I'm still recovering," Santana joked, smiling and rolling her eyes. "So are you feeling good about her?"

"For the most part, yeah. I mean, I'm totally infatuated with her. But there's stuff I have to think about."

"Like?"

"Well… it's headed towards being pretty serious. We talk about stuff that wouldn't be addressed if this were just a fling. But if it keeps going in the same direction, I have to think about the fact that I'll become an instamom."

"Instamom?" Santana frowned

"Instant mother. Well, step-mother. I can't ignore the fact that she has kids. I don't want to get ahead of myself, because it _is_ new. But any relationship where the kids are involved means it's serious, you know? She's not going to introduce them to someone who's only been around for a week or two."

"How long have you been dating?" Santana asked.

"Two and a half months."

"And you just slept together _this_ weekend?" Santana said, eyes wide. "Jeez, I would feel like I was _dying_ if someone made me wait that long."

Elinor shrugged. "We were trying to go slow, and then she had to cancel a few dates because her kids got really sick… but we both _wanted_ to have sex," Elinor said. "And it was worth the wait, even if it wasn't mind-blowing the first time."

"So her kids are already twat-swatting you," Santana teased.

"I don't mind," Elinor smiled.

Santana cast her a dubious look.

"Okay, let me rephrase that," Elinor laughed. "I definitely _mind_, but I understand. It's not something she can control, and I love that she's so focused on her kids. If she made me her priority, I would be concerned. Her kids should always come before some girl she met a few months ago."

"Totally," Brittany agreed. "So wait, back to this instamom thing… how do you feel about that? I mean, do you _want_ kids?"

"Definitely," Elinor nodded. "I have terrible baby fever. Everywhere I go I see pregnant women or women with babies and I get all choked up and sometimes even cry, especially if I'm ovulating. I've always wanted a family, and every time I go through a breakup I feel like I'm farther away from having one."

Brittany gave Elinor a sympathetic pout.

"You know, I remember when we went to Pride together ten years ago," Santana said, leaning back in her chair. "You started crying during the parade when all the gay parents were pushing their kids in strollers and carrying them in backpacks. I was seventeen at the time and I remember thinking 'what the_ hell?_' but I get it now. It's so _you_."

Elinor nodded. "Kids were always part of my plan. Just… you know, not someone else's. But I'm open to the idea."

"Have you met Danielle's kids yet?" Brittany asked.

"No," she said, biting her lip to stifle a giddy grin. "But she invited me to go to the aquarium with them next weekend."

"Yay!" Brittany exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight.

"That's a _really_ good sign, El," Santana said, straightening up to give her a high five. "She thinks you have serious potential."

"I know," Elinor whispered, holding her hands to her flushed cheeks. "But I'm nervous. I feel like if they don't like me, she'll stop seeing me."

"Danielle's kids are great," Brittany reassured. "Whenever I babysit them, Eliza just wants to play with my hair and Andrew wants to talk about cars and dinosaurs. Easy."

"Perfect," Santana said. "Elinor's hair is long enough to entertain Eliza for _weeks_, and she knows a thing or two about cars. When I met her she was driving a vintage Corvette."

"I miss that car," Elinor pouted.

"What happened to it? Now you drive a boring sedan," Santana said.

"I sold it in law school. I couldn't justify spending money to maintain it when I was taking out so many loans. But I miss it. That thing was a chick _magnet_."

"But now you don't want to be a chick magnet," Brittany pointed out. "Danielle wouldn't spend time trying to beat out the competition."

"She wouldn't. Her life is too complicated for that kind of drama."

"Are you two exclusive yet?" Brittany asked.

"Yeah," Elinor smiled. "We had that conversation a few weeks before she invited me to meet her kids."

"Nicely done!" Santana said, extending her hand for another high five.

"You'll do great with them," Brittany assured.

"Is Danielle as normal as she seems?" Santana asked.

"She is. The only thing that I struggle with is that she's had some serious grief in her life. Losing her husband and the father of her kids, especially when they were so young? I don't think I could _possibly_ understand what that was like. I've had my heart broken two or three or ten times, but I've never had my life completely pulled out from under me like she has. I feel almost… disconnected from that part of her, because I have no point of reference. But I think that's one of the things that makes her so grounded. She doesn't waste her time on things that aren't important to her. Everything in her life is intentional, and she has a profound appreciation for even the littlest things because she views everything as fleeting. Her grief gives her a very mature perspective, which at this point in my life I love."

"It's wonderful you appreciate that part of her," Brittany said with a warm smile. "You should let her know that you see it and how much you want to understand."

"I did. She started crying."

"Good job, El," Santana teased, "making your new girlfriend _cry_."

"No, it's a good thing," Brittany assured. "Lots of people cry when someone truly _sees_ them and they're freed from that loneliness of feeling misunderstood."

"Your fiancée understands people pretty well, Lopez. How'd she end up with _you_?" Elinor teased, taking a sip of her coffee and nudging Santana under the table with her foot.

"Sometimes I ask myself the same thing," Santana said, shaking her head with a smile. "Just let me know if you notice anything weird about Danielle, okay? You know, collections of shrunken heads, a meth lab in the basement, Italian men calling with threats in the middle of the night… because Cosas Malas Lopez is at your service if she gets psycho. I don't want you involved with anyone who's going to treat you like Jordan or Sophie or any of those other bitches did."

"Sophie wasn't a bitch," Elinor defended, setting down her coffee. "She was a good person who was also an alcoholic."

"Sorry," Santana grumbled, "But she did hurt you, even if she didn't intend to."

"Danielle isn't an alcoholic, and I haven't seen any shrunken heads. I'm not too worried about a meth lab or the Mob, but I'll keep an eye out. I'm more cautious now. I've had some pretty interesting relationships…" Elinor mused.

"You mean shitty?" Santana suggested.

"Sometimes. But I'm thankful for all of them."

Santana frowned. "_Why_?"

"They all helped me get here. If we don't go through difficult things we don't appreciate good things when they finally arrive. I don't think Danielle being intentional and grounded would have appealed to me five years ago. I would have said she was too serious and rigid. Plus, I've had some really good things come from bad relationships."

"Like what?" Brittany asked, her tone curious.

Elinor looked at Santana with a subtle, questioning smile and nudged her under the table again.

Santana smiled back. "Our friendship," she answered for Elinor.

"Oh yeah!" Brittany chuckled. "I always forget you two dated. That's so funny… I bet it was a train wreck."

"Well _I_ was perfect, but let me tell you, _she_ was a nightmare," Elinor said, laughing and rolling her eyes.

"Hey!" Santana defended.

Elinor kept laughing. "She used to run out of my apartment in the middle of a conversation, then drunk dial me in the middle of the night after not talking to me for three days, and she would _freak_ _out_ if I even said the word 'lesbian.'"

Brittany clucked her tongue and said, "I don't think I've ever thanked you for dealing with that truckload of crazy for me. You can cash in at any time. I repay in baked goods."

Santana chuckled. "I was a hot mess, it's true. But I don't think it was the nine years that changed me," she said, turning her gaze to Brittany. Her expression was soft. "I think it was you, Britt."

Brittany's smile was gentle and genuine as she extended her hand across the table and took Santana's, giving it a squeeze. "And you," she said softly. "Give yourself some credit."

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><p><strong>AN: My intention with the subject matter in the first half of this chapter was to make readers uncomfortable and aware. If you felt either of those things, I have been successful as an author. We should be able to talk, think, and write about STDs without wanting to hide or run away. Please don't review if you're going to leave hate. All other comments are welcome and appreciated :)**


	56. Warm Whispers

**Chapter 56: Warm Whispers**

Chapter title and soundtrack song: "Warm Whispers" by Missy Higgins

**A/N: Have I told you that I have amazing betas? I do. Honeyfigsanddarkchocolate and terriblemuriel.**

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><p>August 2020<p>

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><p>Brittany and Santana lay on their bed watching Saturday Night Live, Brittany curled into Santana with her head on her chest. Whenever Brittany laughed, her throat hummed against Santana. Santana felt calm and happy. Brittany traced her fingers over Santana's stomach, admiring the skin with each fingertip. After a few lazy strokes, Santana hummed, "That feels nice. You trying to start something, B?"<p>

"No," Brittany replied with a smile. "You just feel soft."

Santana hummed in response and clasped Brittany's hand, bringing it to rest just below her bellybutton. "You feel soft too," she murmured, kissing the top of Brittany's head.

When a commercial came on, Brittany slid her legs through the sheets and snuggled into Santana. "So… you know how I don't like bringing stuff up?" she asked tentatively.

"Uh huh," Santana responded.

"I want to bring something up."

"Okay..." Santana said, a little smile playing on her lips. She picked up the remote and pressed mute, looking down at the top of Brittany's head and wrapping her arm around Brittany's back.

"It's been two months since I went off my meds."

"Uh huh." Santana gave Brittany a little squeeze.

"Things are good, right?" Brittany searched.

"Seems like it. If you hadn't told me you'd stopped, I wouldn't have known. You seem happy."

"Yeah. I _am_ happy." Brittany nuzzled her head into Santana's chest and looked back at the TV. "And I'm happy with you."

"Good," Santana smiled. She threaded one hand through the silk of Brittany's hair.

Brittany was quiet for a moment, no doubt enjoying the gentle tugs on her scalp as Santana combed her locks.

"So… I was wondering… when do you want to start?" Brittany murmured.

Santana was pretty sure she knew what Brittany was bringing up, but she wanted to be sure. "Start what?"

"Our family," Brittany said quietly.

Santana smiled at the top of Brittany's head in response. She loved that Brittany was looking forward to raising children together. "Whenever it feels right," she answered. "When we both feel ready."

Brittany nodded, tilting her head up a few inches and tracing her finger around the ring that hung from Santana's necklace. "Do you feel like we need to be legally married first?"

"We don't know when that's going to be… _hopefully_ soon. But who knows. So… no. We don't have to be married." Santana kept combing Brittany's hair with her fingers, relishing the way the ends of the fine strands tickled in between.

Brittany nodded against Santana's shoulder. She lay there in silence for a moment before speaking again. "I'm ready."

Santana's hand froze in Brittany's hair. She was surprised. "You are?"

Brittany nodded again. "I've been thinking about it more and more since we talked about it… and that's what I want. I want to have a baby." She spoke with so much conviction, however gentle, that Santana knew this wasn't a whim.

"You want to have a baby while you're in school?" Santana asked delicately.

Brittany shrugged against Santana. "It'd be kind of cool to learn about what's going on with my body while I experience it. I'd take a break when the baby came."

Santana turned off the TV, slid out from under Brittany's torso and propped herself up on her elbow so she could see Brittany's face. Brittany rolled onto her back and looked up at Santana with a shy grin.

"Are you sure?" Santana asked. "I mean, don't get me wrong; I'm excited about starting our family. But I don't want you going back to the housewife thing. That doesn't work for you and I love you too much to see you unhappy again." She traced Brittany's jaw with her knuckle.

Brittany bit her lip and nodded, looking up at the ceiling. "I know. I would make sure I didn't fall back into being a housewife." She looked back up at Santana. "But I've thought a lot about this and it's really what I want to do."

"Okay…" Santana said, her expression soft and pensive. "I'm definitely open to it. But we don't have to rush."

"I don't feel rushed," Brittany shrugged. "Like I said, I've been thinking about it a lot. And it's not like the baby will be here tomorrow. It can take a while, you know."

"Nine months is pretty standard," Santana said with a wink.

"No, not _that_ part," Brittany giggled. She propped herself up, mirroring Santana. "It's a complicated process... Deciding how to conceive, picking a donor or registering at a sperm bank, ovulation tracking, insemination... Not to mention the legal stuff."

Santana looked at Brittany for a moment, considering the effort she had put into researching how to start their family. It was sweet and unexpected, but not surprising in the least. "You really _have_ thought about this," Santana remarked. Santana didn't know anything about lesbian baby-making, but she offered what she had: "Well, I've got the legal hoops covered." She tucked Brittany's hair behind her ear. "But you're right, we should talk about the rest of it."

"Are we ready for kids?" Brittany asked with a solemn expression.

Santana shrugged. "I've got a job with great benefits that cover you and anyone else we bring into our family. I feel like we're stable and secure enough financially. We may not have everything in the world, but we have enough," she assured.

"I know, but are _we_ ready."

Santana paused for merely a second to contemplate. "Yeah," she answered with confidence. "I've never felt stronger with you."

Brittany grinned in agreement.

Santana continued, "People say you shouldn't have kids until you're done being one, and I haven't felt like a kid for a long time. We don't really go out partying much anymore."

Brittany scrunched up her nose in a playful smile. "Yeah, we're kind of in a nesting phase," she giggled.

Santana took Brittany's hand in hers. She looked at their handclasp as she murmured, "So, I guess what I'm saying is…" her eyes flickered up to Brittany's, "I'm ready if you are."

Brittany smiled wider and nodded. "I am."

They looked deep into each other's eyes as a full minute passed, reflecting each others' joy and anxiety. It is rare in life to know - _in the moment_- that one is at the beginning of an intimate and lifelong journey. They both knew this was one of those moments.

Brittany's eyes fell to the ring on Santana's necklace. She didn't even have to speak for Santana to answer the question in her mind.

"You know I'm in this for life," Santana assured, squeezing Brittany's hand. "No legal document or ceremony can possibly capture how much I love you and how much I want to have a family with you. If other people care that we're not married, they don't matter."

Brittany was quiet for another moment, and Santana knew she was thinking about the most painful objections they would encounter: those from Dolores and Antonio Lopez.

But Brittany let the hurt go unspoken as she picked up the ring in her fingers. "So, I know we talked about me carrying our babies, but we didn't really consider adopting. Would you want to do that?"

"I like the _idea_ of adopting," Santana said, dipping her head to the side. "But… Ohio doesn't allow same-sex couples to adopt."

"But that's so unfair…" Brittany frowned, her shoulders slumping as the ring slipped from her fingers onto Santana's chest.

"That's _next_ year's political battle," Santana teased, poking fun at her own zeal, "gay adoption." She winked. Brittany gave her a sad smile. "But even if it were legal, I don't think we can afford it right now. It can cost up to forty thousand dollars. I know kids are expensive, and we'll be able to provide for ours just fine, but that kind of up-front cost would be a big stretch right now."

Brittany nodded in understanding. "If I gave birth to our baby, you could be a legal parent, right? Like, there's papers for that, right?"

Santana tried not to cringe. "In Ohio?" she asked, buying time.

Brittany nodded.

Santana knew she was about to see Brittany's face fall and dreaded delivering the news. "Well… no. Ohio doesn't allow second-parent adoption." Santana tried to speak as gently as she could, but she knew her tone wouldn't soften the blow enough.

Brittany's face fell and Santana felt her chest ache. "Not _yet_, at least," she amended. "But you could make me a full legal guardian and I would be able to make hospital decisions and sign permission slips and everything. It's not perfect, but it's _something_…"

"Is that ever going to change?" Brittany asked, her eyes wide and hopeful.

"I hope it does…" Santana said, studying Brittany's face intently. She couldn't tell if Brittany was angry or sad. It was probably both.

Whatever it was, Brittany brushed it aside with a sigh. "Does it matter to you how we make our family?" she asked.

"I haven't really thought about it," Santana admitted. "I don't know that much about how lesbians make babies. I mean, I always _assumed_ we'd have kids, but I just imagined the day-to-day stuff."

"Like what?" Brittany asked, her smile returning in genuine.

"Like… throwing birthday parties and celebrating Christmas with your parents and getting to play the Tooth Fairy... taking turns putting the kids to sleep and laughing at the funny things they said that day and the ugly-ass 'art' they bring home from school… Really having a _home_ with a family. It's what I've always wanted with you."

Brittany leaned forward and kissed Santana. "I love you _so_ much right now," she said against Santana's lips.

Santana kissed Brittany back, grinning. "What about you?" she asked. "Have you thought about how we'd have our kids?"

"A lot," said Brittany, nodding. "A few months ago when I was babysitting for Danielle, I saw this book on her shelf. After the kids went to bed I read it almost cover to cover."

"What book?"

"I don't remember the name… it was like 'The Ultimate Guide to Lezbaby-Making' or something."

"'Lezbaby-making'?" Santana grinned. "What did the book talk about?"

"Lots of things. Some of the feelings stuff, but also all sorts of information about sperm and syringes and cycle tracking and fertility-enhancement… it was a little overwhelming, but I learned a lot."

"I'll have to check it out."

Brittany nodded, her gaze drifting to the duvet beneath them. "But as I was reading it I got really sad."

"Why, sweetie?" Santana frowned, her lower lip jutting out ever so slightly.

"Because I really want to make a baby with you," Brittany mumbled.

"So let's have a baby…" Santana purred, leaning forward to kiss up and down Brittany's neck.

"I mean I want to make a baby with _you_," Brittany whispered.

The mood in the room shifted as if a cloud had drifted over the sun. Santana stilled her mouth and pulled her head back. Brittany's eyes were grey and sad. Santana felt a hook pull downward in her chest, trying to drag her through the bed into the earth as she looked at Brittany in silence.

"I wish we could make a baby together too, B," Santana whispered, brushing the inside of Brittany's arm with her fingertips. "That would be amazing."

Brittany looked away, fighting back tears. "Well, maybe it's good that we can't… we'd probably have a _hundred_ kids running around here by now." She tried to smile at her own joke.

Santana didn't laugh. She watched as Brittany tucked and untucked her bottom lip for a minute, blinking to hold back tears.

"Sweetheart… it's okay to be sad about it," Santana soothed, stroking Brittany's arm. It was rare for Brittany to put this much effort into suppressing her feelings.

Brittany began to sniffle, looking away from Santana until she couldn't contain her sadness any longer. "It's not _fair_!" she whimpered, letting her tears spill. "We've been together for _so_ long, and no matter how hard we try, we can't make something other people make by accident! And even if we plan a family together the government still won't let it be legally _yours_? Why do they hate us so much?" She dropped her head into the pillow, her shoulders shaking as she cried.

Santana felt helpless, which usually morphed into panic or anger, but she rallied to stay calm for Brittany. She threaded her fingers through Brittany's hair, letting it fall onto her shoulder at the ends. "You're right, it's _not_ fair," she said, her words soft and soothing. "But no matter what the law says, I _know_ I'll be just as much of a parent to our baby as you'll be. I'm not going to let the government tell me that my love for our child isn't real. Just like I don't let them tell me my love for _you_ isn't real." She leaned down and placed a kiss on Brittany's temple.

Brittany looked up at Santana and wiped her cheek. "Okay," she mumbled. She gave Santana a watery smile, but it faded quickly. "I guess as long as you can take the baby to the hospital and make other important legal decisions it'll be okay…" She looked out the window for a minute, and Santana studied the sadness on her face. "It still makes me sad we can't make a baby together. When I think about straight couples that have kids, other people always say 'oh, he's got his mom's eyes' or 'oh, he's handsome like his dad'… I want to see you and me when I look at our kids. I want them to say 'oh, he's got Brittany's freckles' and 'oh, she's got Santana's smile.' I guess I didn't realize that was so important to me until I read that book." She tucked her chin down, as if she were ashamed of wanting to have a child that represented them.

Santana ached at the words, not just in her chest, but in her arms and legs too. "I want that, too, B. Our babies would be beautiful," she said, cupping Brittany's cheek.

Santana thought about what it would be like to actually make a child with the most beautiful woman she knew. It would be like creating a living, breathing masterpiece: a legacy to leave behind, proof that their love existed and was every bit as real as those who had biology on their side. It pained her that they would never be able to do that together.

As she was trying to think of ways to give Brittany what she wanted, an idea crossed her mind. "What if we found the next best thing?"

Brittany furrowed her brow.

"Someone related to me," Santana explained.

"Like who?"

"My cousin. Carlos," Santana continued. "He's healthy and smart and successful. He's a little older, but not much. He's not married, so we don't have to worry about someone else objecting. And he's got signature Lopez looks."

As Santana tried to convince Brittany that they could find a way to make their family their own, she felt herself quickly warming to the idea.

"Do you think he'd be open to it?" Brittany asked, still wiping a few smeared tears away and rubbing them between her fingers.

"I hope so. I know he's cool with me being gay. He let me stay at his hotel for free the whole time I was working on the marriage bill, and he rented me a room during Pride weekend when you and I were only seventeen, which I'm pretty sure is illegal," Santana pointed out.

Brittany looked at the pillowcase, deep in thought.

Santana continued, trying to soothe Brittany's sadness. "No matter what, our kids will be like us, even if we need a little help making them. People will say things like 'oh, he's got Brittany's free spirit' or 'oh, she's got Santana's stubbornness.' I know _that_ for sure."

The corner of Brittany's mouth twitched up, but she kept her gaze on the sheets.

Santana's voice was low as she continued. "I know Carlos isn't me. But he's the closest thing we have." She watched Brittany's eyes, searching for a hint into her thoughts.

Finally Brittany looked back at Santana. "I like that idea."

Santana searched Brittany's face for certainty. "If he were to say yes, does that feel right to you?"

Brittany nodded pensively. "It _is_ the next best thing."

"Okay," Santana said with a gentle smile. "Well, I need to read this lezbaby book and do some legal research first. But if it's a possibility, do you want me to ask him?"

Brittany nodded again with more confidence. "Just… make sure it's clear we're not looking for a threesome." She smiled and Santana felt the whole room brighten. Brittany only made jokes when she was feeling okay.

Santana wrinkled her nose. "Gross, Britt."

Brittany chuckled and tucked hair behind Santana's ear.

"Believe me," Santana assured, her expression returning to a calm smile. "I will make our intentions _crystal_ clear. Legal documents and everything."

Brittany smiled back. "I want it to be just you and me when we make our baby," she said, snuggling into Santana's chest, the ring pressing into her cheek.

"Of course, sweetheart," Santana said as she wrapped her arms around Brittany, kissing her hair. "Just you and me."


	57. Get Set

**Chapter 57: Get Set**

Chapter title and **soundtrack**: "Get Set" by Taxiride

**A/N: Several people commented on Brittany and Santana's desire to have a biological child, pointing out that it is somewhat possible. If they were to do egg extractions from Santana, fertilize them with donor sperm in a lab, and implant the embryos via IVF into Brittany, it would be as close as they could get to a biological child. This is an excellent point, with some huge logistical problems. First of all, the egg extraction from Santana would be extremely costly ($10K+) and painful, needing a large window of recovery time she may not be able to take off from work, especially if she plans to take time off for maternity leave after Brittany gives birth. Secondly, IVF itself is very costly. Given that Brittany and Santana have determined they can't afford the up-front cost to adopt, they most likely wouldn't be able to afford this. Thirdly, there are way too many legal issues in the state of Ohio (which are discussed in this chapter) for them to have any kind of easy time doing lesbian IVF. It**_**would**_**be the closest thing to their biological child, but they would still need a sperm donor, which kind of negates the point. But good thinking, readers!**

**Thank you to my lovely betas, HoneyFigsAndDarkChocolate and terriblemuriel, and my proofreader emmas409. Now that I've talked your ear off, I have another ridiculously long chapter for you. I can't decide if this is the gayest or straightest chapter I've ever written. Let me know what you think!**

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><p>Santana came home from work the next day to find a note and a book on the kitchen table. She looked at the title of the book: <em>The Essential Guide to Lesbian Conception, Pregnancy and Birth<em>. Her heart flickered for a second before she read the note.

_Thought you might be interested in the book I told you about. I'm at work until seven. I'll pick up some dinner on my way home. Love you lots, B._

Santana eyed the book, the fuzzy image of a naked, pregnant torso a bit jarring behind the text of the title. Would Brittany look like that in the next year? The possibility was exciting and scary at the same time. The thought of having a child made her feel warm and melted inside, but pregnancy seemed a mysterious and frightening phenomenon. She set down her briefcase and slipped off her blazer, hanging it over the back of a chair. After getting a glass of water and placing her shoes by the door, she took the book into the living room and opened it to a random page in the middle. The heading ANONYMOUS SEX leapt off the page at her. She glanced at the chapter heading, titled "Unknown Donors and Sperm Banks" and decided it would probably be best to start at the beginning of the book.

Before she knew it, she was forty pages in and her head was swimming with questions. The first chapter of the book challenged the idea of traditional family models, even when the parents were both women. Some lesbian couples had children together but intentionally didn't share parenting responsibilities equally. Some lesbians raised children with their partner as well as a group of other people. Some single lesbians had children. Some lesbians slept with male friends for the purpose of getting pregnant. She had so many questions she wanted to ask Brittany about how they wanted to make and raise their family. She got out a pad of paper and began to write her questions down.

She had barely moved on to a chapter about ways to conceive when she was pummeled with even _more_ decisions she didn't realize they would have to make. They had already agreed to use a known donor – Carlos, if he was willing – and that they would do the insemination together, but the _how_ and _where_ hadn't been discussed. Santana became concerned that Carlos – again, if he was willing – would need to be nearby, and she was decidedly uncomfortable with that idea. With every page turn she added to her growing list of questions.

Before she knew it, the sun was low in the sky and she heard Brittany's keys in the door. Brittany walked in and Santana glanced up from her book. "Did you know that most women using a known donor inseminate two or three times a month?" she greeted.

"Hello to you too," Brittany grinned. "And yes, I did know that."

"That's a lot," Santana commented, turning her gaze back to the book. "I kind of thought we'd only have to do it once…"

"Well, hopefully only one series of three," Brittany said casually.

"This book would be a lot easier to read if it were like one of those 'Choose Your Own Adventure' books. Like 'if you're using a known donor, go to page 75. If you're doing an anonymous clinic insemination, go to page 102.' This is _so_ confusing."

"It _is_ confusing," Brittany agreed. "Hey, I picked up a salad. Apples, blue cheese and candied walnuts."

"Yum," Santana hummed, eyes glued to the book.

Brittany toed off her shoes and got two forks, two wine glasses, and a bottle of sauvignon blanc from the kitchen.

"Do most people drink when they're doing family planning?" Santana teased.

"Well, hopefully soon I won't be _allowed_ to drink, so I figured I'd live it up while I can," Brittany smiled. "Good read, huh?" she said, nodding toward the book in Santana's hands.

"It's interesting," Santana said nonchalantly. "I was a little skeptical when I opened the first page and it said 'dedicated to the Goddess,' but I decided to give it a second chance."

Brittany chuckled and unscrewed the cap on the wine and poured them each a glass. "Well, like my dad always says, 'take what you want and leave the rest.' I think that's an A.A. thing, but it works for most things in life."

"I'll drink to that," Santana smirked, picking up her glass and tipping it toward Brittany.

Brittany opened the salad and balanced it in her lap as she faced Santana. "Anything else interesting in there?" she asked, handing Santana a fork.

"There's a chapter titled, 'Your Relationship With Sperm'," Santana said, crinkling her nose. "Gross."

"That's why they put it in the lezbaby book," Brittany giggled. "So lesbians could deal with their feelings about it. Because really, man juices aren't any grosser than lady juices."

"Um, yes they _are_," Santana argued.

"Well, I hate to break it to you, but we're going to have to use sperm to get me pregnant."

"You're _joking_ me," Santana deadpanned.

Brittany speared a piece of apple and some lettuce and stuffed it in her mouth. She forked another bite and held it up to Santana, who opened her mouth and ate it without taking her eyes off the book. "What's all that?" Brittany asked, nodding to the notepad on the other side of Santana.

"My notes," Santana answered.

"Is there going to be a test?" Brittany gasped.

"Only a pregnancy test, which I hear is pass/fail," Santana replied. "The book just brings up a lot of things I want to talk about together."

"Ok, let's do it," Brittany said, taking another bite of salad and holding the box toward Santana.

Santana straightened up and let the book close around the finger that held her page. She picked up her fork, took a bite and chewed, watching Brittany as her eyes sparkled in a radiant smile.

"So you said you want it to be just you and me," Santana started after she swallowed her bite. "Did you mean here?" she asked.

"Uh huh. In our bed," Brittany said, taking a sip of wine.

"Okay. But does that work? With the… _sperm_ and stuff?"

"Yeah," Brittany nodded, her mouth full of salad. "It's in the book," she pointed. "As long as the sperm is kept close to body temperature, it can survive outside the body for at least an hour without losing motility. Plenty of time to pick it up, transport it here, and set the mood."

"The mood?"

"Yeah. The baby-making mood."

"Hmm… that might be a stretch for me. I don't know how to 'get in the mood' to insert jizz into my fiancée."

"S…" Brittany warned.

"Sorry. So you want the mood to be sexy."

"Well… sexy sounds weird, but I want it to be special. With candles and stuff."

"Sensual," Santana offered.

"Yeah," Brittany agreed. "Maybe kind of spiritual too. Creating life is special."

"And you still want to ask Carlos?"

"Definitely."

"Okay. I'll have to figure out the best way to ask him..."

"I can ask," Brittany said with a shrug. "I'm pretty good at getting my way."

"Oh, you want to be there?" Santana asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Well, _yeah_… I'm the one who'll be getting pregnant."

"Okay. I'll do some legal research tomorrow and we could invite him over for lunch this weekend."

Brittany grinned. "You're excited," she stated.

"Well, you're so eager to start our family…" Santana mumbled, trying to hide her enthusiasm. Sometimes she liked to pretend Brittany didn't know what a sap she was.

"You're excited too," Brittany said, her smile growing smug.

"Just… just a little bit," Santana admitted. Brittany raised her eyebrow "Okay, maybe a lot bit."

Brittany leaned forward and nuzzled Santana's neck. "You're cute," she murmured.

"Just don't tell anyone," Santana grumbled with an embarrassed smile.

"That you're cute?"

Santana nodded against Brittany's cheek.

"I don't have to tell them," Brittany whispered, kissing Santana on the cheek and sitting back. "They'll find out when they see you holding our baby."

Santana felt heat creep up her cheeks. "I don't know what you're talking about," she mumbled, trying not to smile.

"Yes you do. You'll look at it the same way you look at me, except you'll also look like you're worried you're going to drop it."

"Will not," Santana argued.

"I saw the way you held your cousin Rosa's baby at her Fourth of July party a few years ago. It was adorable."

"Shut up, I won't be afraid I'm going to _drop_ our baby," Santana said, cheeks still warm.

"If you say so," Brittany said, still smug as she sat back and took another sip of wine.

"So back to the first step," Santana nodded toward the book. "You want to do it here and you want it to be just you and me and you want it to be sensual."

Brittany nodded.

"But what about the big picture stuff? Are we going to share all the parenting responsibilities?"

"It would be nice if you'd change a diaper every once in a while, yeah," Brittany winked.

"Oh, I know. The book talks about making sure we discuss our expectations before we get pregnant, so I just wanted to make sure we did."

"Oh, yeah. I mean, I want to share it fifty-fifty with you, but I think a lot of it is circumstance. If I'm not working, then I don't expect you to do fifty percent of the work _and_ have a job."

"And vice versa," Santana added.

"But if we're both working, then I want us both to be equally involved."

"Sounds good. That's what I thought, I just wanted to make sure. I also wanted to talk about childcare and school because it makes me really nervous that we both might be working, and I don't want to feel like we're not raising our own kid, you know? And I don't know anything about the public schools here, so I want to look into that."

"How about we just work on the nugget and build the Happy Meal around it later?" Brittany suggested with a smile.

"Did... you just compare our baby to a chicken nugget?"

"Maybe."

Santana frowned, but the corners of her mouth twitched up in a smile.

Brittany grinned around a bite of salad.

"I guess I shouldn't be worried about where they'll go to school yet," Santana admitted.

"But I do want to talk about one thing the book didn't bring up," Brittany offered.

"Okay," Santana said, taking a bite. She couldn't imagine something the book _didn't_ talk about.

"Working with this little boy who has autism and cerebral palsy has really made me think. I see how hard it is for his parents, even though they love him so much and have resources to provide for him. I want to talk about what we would do if we had a child who needed extra support."

"You mean special needs?"

"I don't like the term 'special needs.' When I was younger some teachers used to whisper that around me and it made me feel bad. _All_ kids are special and have needs..."

"Aw, sweetie…" Santana said with a genuine pout. "You're right, all kids are special. Does 'additional needs' sound better?" Santana asked.

"I guess," Brittany shrugged. "If we _did_ have a child with additional needs, it's important to me that we don't just pay other people to take care of him or her all the time. Of course we'd get professionals to help us and support us and show us how to work with him or her, but it's our kid and our responsibility."

"I agree. Our kid deserves to feel loved by us and spend time with us no matter what. Sounds like we're on the same page. But most babies are healthy and don't have additional needs."

"Yeah. I just want a _healthy_ child," Brittany said, dipping her head to emphasize her point.

"Me too. A healthy Baby…?"

"Lopez-Pierce?" Brittany suggested.

Santana smiled. "You want to hyphenate?" she asked, nodding a bit to indicate she approved and was seeking confirmation.

"Yeah, I like it. It's important to me that our baby reflect both of us."

"Baby Lopez-Pierce it is, then. I have something else that's important to me," Santana began. She studied Brittany's expression in preparation for her reaction.

"Yeah?"

"I want to raise our kids bilingual."

Brittany's eyebrows went up. "Oh! Um… okay... right, of course. As long as you tell me what the heck they're saying."

"You'll pick it up," Santana assured. "You'll speak Spanish just as well as they do by the time their natural speech impediments clear up."

"Hopefully... When you talk to your parents I can't understand a word you're saying."

"You'll understand the kids though. 'Te amo, Mama Bwittany!'" Santana squeaked, imitating a small child as she batted her eyelashes.

Brittany laughed.

Santana tickled Brittany's ribs and kept squeaking "Quiero más helado, Mama Bwittany! Tengo chicle en mi pelo, Mama Bwittany!"

"_What_?" Brittany asked, laughing and shrugging away from Santana's hands.

"I want more ice cream and I have gum in my hair."

"Well, _maybe_ you shouldn't have given them bubblegum ice cream."

"What? How is it _my_ fault?" Santana said in mock exasperation.

"It just seems like a terrible after-school snack, that's all," Brittany said with mock scorn. She broke into a grin and Santana laughed.

"Oh, whatever! You're totally going to be the fun mom and I'll be the one making them do their math homework and practice the piano."

"But I'll be the one making them eat their broccoli and clean their rooms. So I guess we're both not fun."

"Our kids will have _terrible_ lives," Santana said, tossing her hair.

"_Terrible_," Brittany agreed.

They grinned at each other for a moment, the playful mood coming to rest gently between them.

"So lunch with Carlos this weekend?" Santana asked.

"Mm hm," Brittany nodded, taking a sip of wine. "Sounds good."

* * *

><p>The next day Santana poked her head in Denton's office around lunchtime "Hey," she said, "want to grab lunch in a bit?"<p>

"Sure," he replied. "Meet you outside in twenty."

They walked to their usual sandwich place, making small talk with Santana asking about Denton's kids.

"Why'd you bring your briefcase, weirdo?" Denton asked, nodding toward it as Santana placed it on the chair next to her.

"Oh, I have some questions," Santana said as they sat down with their food at a table by the window.

"You know my policy on that," Denton said with a disapproving look as he unwrapped his sandwich. "No work at lunchtime. Let your brain rest."

"My brain doesn't rest," Santana countered. "But this isn't about work."

"Okay, fine. I'll allow it." Denton bit into his sandwich.

"Thank you, Justice Schneider," Santana said, rolling her eyes. She knew he was only joking when he pulled rank on her like that. "I wanted to ask you some legal questions about gay parenting. I know you're not a lawyer, but you worked in LGBT policy for so long, you probably know more than most lawyers. And you're free."

"It comes with the cost of being my friend," Denton joked. "What do you want to know?"

"Well, I know that there's no second parent adoption in Ohio. The closest thing we have is guardianship. But how does that work, exactly? How is it different than adoption?"

"You're a lawyer, you tell me," Denton invited, turning his hand upward on the table casually.

"I know there's a few different kinds of guardianship. Since we're talking about child, it wouldn't be guardian of an estate, more of a guardian of the person or a plenary guardianship. I'm leaning towards plenary guardianship, since that's medical, educational, _and_ financial."

"So you and Brittany are planning a baby," Denton smiled.

Santana crossed her arms over her chest as if challenging him. "I'm also wondering about the donor side of things. I did a little poking around and found out that we'd – I mean, a lesbian couple - would have to petition the court to allow their donor to relinquish his parental rights."

"Yeah, what you want to do is first get him to relinquish his rights and then petition the court to bestow guardianship on you."

"Or whoever we're talking about, right?"

"Right."

"And that can be done before the child is born?"

"That's up to the judge."

"Are you _kidding_ me? There's no precedent there?" Santana asked, her expression only intensifying the exasperation in her words.

"Unfortunately not. But I know which judges will do it here in Columbus."

"You do?"

"Yup. I can get you all set up if you need. Also, you should know that for the insemination to be legal here in Ohio it has to be done in a clinic and supervised by an MD."

Santana paled. Not only could she and Brittany not make a biological child together, now Denton was telling her they couldn't conceive they way they had planned to. "What?"

"Yeah. Have not-Brittany go for a pre-conception check-up and ask about it."

"We really don't want to do it in a clinic…" Santana said, looking at her lap.

Denton's demeanor softened at Santana's sudden withdrawal. "Well, there's no law saying you can't willingly impregnate yourself. Doctors aren't going to ask how it happened…"

"Right… but from the legal perspective…"

"It's a bit of a gray area," Denton admitted, dipping his head to the side.

Santana searched for a question to distract her from the crushing news that they might not be able to do the home-insemination they had planned. "So… If the bill passes, would same-sex couples be granted adoption rights?"

"Yes. We made it clear that all marriage rights are included. Remember?"

"Yeah, just checking." Santana took a breath, shaking off her disappointment in the answers she was receiving. "Sorry to interrogate you about all this."

"No problem. And I'm looking forward to being interrogated by the next generation of Lopezes," Denton chuckled.

"Lopez-Pierces," Santana corrected.

"You really don't keep happy secrets well, do you, Santana?" Denton grinned. "Don't forget to eat," he said, pointing at her still-wrapped sandwich.

* * *

><p>Santana opened the door with a smile, welcoming Carlos inside. They sat down at the table, Santana trying to act casual as Brittany served the grilled chicken and arugula salad she had prepared. Steeling their nerves, they discussed the temperate weather, plans for the upcoming Labor Day weekend, and conversed about work and the latest antics of the extended Lopez family.<p>

"So you're starting school soon, right Brittany?" Carlos asked.

"Yeah, in just two weeks," Brittany said with a grin. "I ordered my textbooks last night."

"And I thought _law_ school textbooks were expensive," Santana said, shaking her head. "They don't fuck around with nursing school."

"But yeah, I'm really excited," Brittany said.

"How long is the nursing program?" Carlos asked.

"Just a little over a year," Brittany answered.

"Really? I thought it usually took several years. You're going to be an RN, right?"

"Yeah, it usually does," Brittany said with a sly smile, not offering further explanation.

Carlos looked curious.

"Brittany took a bunch of classes as an undergrad that filled a lot of the requirements, so she's in a special program for post-Baccalaureate students who want a career specialization, not their initial Bachelors.," Santana explained. "It's 'cuz she's smart."

"Not really," Brittany said, smile still shy, "I just got lucky they thought my B.A. was enough to enroll me in the post-Bacc program."

"She's just being modest," Santana said.

Brittany bit her lip as she got up to clear the plates and the conversation fell into a lull.

"So we have a confession," Santana said when Brittany returned from the kitchen. She leaned forward and placed her hands around her sweating water glass as Brittany sat down. "We invited you over to ask you something."

"Okay…" Carlos responded, glancing back and forth between them.

"Brittany and I have been together for nine years officially," Santana continued.

"Almost, we're still two weeks away," Brittany argued.

"But who's counting, right?" Santana smiled. "Anyway, we've been talking lately and we decided…"

"We really want to start a family," Brittany finished.

"Ah," Carlos said, adjusting awkwardly in his chair.

"It's just a little more complicated for us," Brittany said, hands in her lap playing with the hem of her skirt.

"Do you know where this conversation is going?" Santana asked, turning her head to the side and eyeing her cousin.

"I think so," Carlos said with a tentative smile.

"We want your sperm," Brittany stated, her expression bemused.

"Don't _sugarcoat_ it, Britt," Santana said, shooting her a look before turning back to Carlos. "We've talked about how we want to raise our kids, the home environment we want for them, and how we're going to go about protecting our family legally. We've agreed to raise them bilingual and discussed what we would do if we had a child with additional needs. We're stable financially _and_ as a couple, and we feel prepared to bring a child into the world. We've researched the legal complications-"

"Santana did that part," Brittany interrupted. "I just cried about it."

"-and we've got all the documents we need already in a folder. We even call the second bedroom the nursery. We've got everything set… _except_ the biological ability to procreate." Santana took a deep breath, knowing she couldn't possibly fit any more preamble in to delay asking the question directly. "As Brittany already so eloquently stated, we want to ask you if you'd consider being our donor."

"I assume, since you're asking _me_, that Brittany's going to carry the child?" Carlos asked.

Both girls nodded.

"It would be an artificial insemination," Brittany explained. "You would be given a specimen cup and we'd pick it up from you."

"And Santana would be adopting the child once it was born?" Carlos asked.

Brittany gave Santana a sad look.

"Unfortunately that's not allowed in Ohio yet," Santana said. "But Brittany can petition the court to grant me permanent plenary guardianship. It covers most of the rights of adoption, the only difference is that the court determines it and they can put in stipulations if they feel any are necessary. But I would be able to make medical, financial, legal, and educational decisions for the child. In the day-to-day stuff, I'd have all parental rights."

"So all you need is for me to sign a few papers and give you a cup of sperm?" Carlos clarified. Santana found it hard to read his expression, though he seemed to be genuinely curious about the process, which seemed like a good sign.

"Well, it would be more than one," Brittany said, "We're going to do multiple inseminations per month, clustered around my ovulation. That increases the likelihood of conception."

"I also feel we should be upfront with you that this is kind of under the table," Santana said. "Ohio state law wants us to do the insemination in a clinic, supervised by a doctor. But there's a bit of a gray area. Britt's OB/GYN knows what's up, and said that she supports us in making this baby in an environment we feel comfortable with. She said she'll sign off on any forms we need to keep our family safe legally and medically as long as our donor has some tests done before we get started."

"You mean an STD screening," Carlos said, nodding in understanding.

"Among other things. Viability, motility, all that. I hope you're not offended," Santana said. "It's a precaution we'd take with _anyone_, even if the doctor didn't require it."

"No, no, I understand."

"Okay, good," Brittany sighed. "It's an awkward thing to ask, since you're family."

"Don't worry about it. It just shows you're responsible."

Santana took a breath, continuing. They had a lot of information to impart so Carlos could make an informed decision. "Probably the most inconvenient part is that we'd also ask you to abstain from sex with other people while you're making donations. I know that's a lot to ask. But it just ensures the health and safety of Brittany and the baby."

"It's not like I'm getting any anyway," Carlos chuckled.

"So apart from the health screening, staying celibate, specimen deposits and a little bit of paperwork, that's all we'd ever expect from you. _If_ you agree to do this, of course."

"Hm. Would I be allowed to visit the child?"

"Of course!" Brittany chirped. "We'd love you to visit."

"But you would be Uncle Carlos," Santana said resolutely. "We don't plan to tell our child his or her biological origins until he or she is older. We want to be _very_ clear you're not the father, and you wouldn't be included in our concept of our immediate family. Our kids will have lots of uncles and aunties who love them. But no dad."

"Would it be public information that I was the donor?"

"That's up to you," Santana shrugged. "We can protect the documentation and your identity if that makes you feel more comfortable. Of course the medical records and legal documents would have your name on them, but those can be kept classified. In rare circumstances the court can order the file be made public record, but we don't anticipate that happening. Like I said, just a health screening, specimen deposits, celibacy and paperwork. Nothing more."

"Hmm…" Carlos hummed, looking at the table.

"We can buy you a ton of porn, if that's any incentive," Brittany offered.

Carlos chuckled. He stretched back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head as he looked at the light fixture over the table.

Santana glanced at Brittany, nervous at his silence. Brittany looked back at her, a hopeful yet anxious smile on her face.

Brittany leaned toward him, her eyes fixed on the table as she spoke. "You're our first choice for a donor," she said softly, her voice tinged with sadness as she ran her fingertips along the edge of her placemat. "In a perfect world, Santana and I would be able to have a baby together. But we can't, so this is the next best thing. You can take some time to think about it if you want…"

Carlos' gaze fell on Brittany, who kept her eyes downcast. "Yeah, I'll think about it."

"Okay," Brittany said with a little smile. "Thanks."

The room fell silent for a few seconds.

"We have cookies, if you want some dessert," Santana offered, trying to ease the tension. "Britt made them this morning."

"Thanks, but I should get going," Carlos said, moving to get up. "I'm meeting some buddies to play basketball in a bit. But thanks for the meal. It was delicious."

"Okay," Santana nodded.

Carlos collected his keys and gave Santana a stiff hug on his way out. They said their goodbyes and Santana shut the door behind him.

Brittany's shoulders drooped. "What are we going to do if he says no?" she whispered.

"We'll figure it out then," Santana said, wrapping her arms around Brittany. "Let's just let him think about it, okay? It's a big decision and we want him to really process it."

"Okay." Brittany sighed and rested her forehead against Santana's for a moment. "I really, really hope he says yes. But he seemed in a hurry to leave… it didn't seem like he really wanted to think about it."

"Sh, sh, it's okay. We're just at the beginning of this process. Don't get discouraged, baby."

Santana held her there for another minute before going into kitchen to finish cleaning up from lunch.

Five minutes later there was a knock at the door. Brittany answered as Santana poked her head out of the kitchen to see who it was.

Carlos stood standing on the stoop. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking! I was just caught off guard. I don't need _any_ time to think about it. You two are obviously meant to be parents and I would be _honored_ to be your donor," he said with a big smile.

"Really?" Brittany shrieked, bouncing once in place as her eyes lit up.

"Absolutely," Carlos said with a smile, walking back into the apartment. "I'll sign the papers right now if you want."

Brittany squealed and stood on her tiptoes to hive him a hug.

"How about I bring the papers with me when we do the first handoff?" Santana offered, coming out of the kitchen with a wide grin.

"Sure, sure," Carlos nodded. "When do you want that to be?"

"Britt?" Santana asked.

"Hang on, let me look at my chart…"

Brittany darted into the bedroom, coming back with her ovulation chart. "Starting Friday after next and spacing each insemination two days apart. So, that Friday, Sunday and Tuesday."

"Okay. I can do that."

"I'll drop the specimen cups off sometime before then. And you could do the screening with our OB/GYN this coming week?"

"Sure thing," Carlos agreed.

"Okay, I'll email you that information tonight."

"And then I'll pick the first deposit up sometime in the evening," Brittany said. "Just let me know when is most… convenient for you, and I'll meet you at a location of your choice."

"Okay," Carlos said.

"Wait, scratch that," Brittany said, holding her finger up. "I meant like, your house or your work or something. I'm not going to meet you at a strip joint."

Carlos laughed. "No strips joints," he agreed. "That just seems wrong."

"And there won't be any talking about feelings or fertility rituals or softball games. We don't plan to drag you into the lesbian world."

Carlos smiled. "I'm not worried, Prima Santanita."

"You're the only one I let call me that, you know that, right?" Santana said, raising her eyebrows as he drew her into a crushing hug.

"That's because I'm the best cousin ever."

"If I had any doubts before, they've been totally erased now," she said as he let her go.

"So," Carlos said. "Assuming the screening goes well, which it should, next Friday, then?"

"Next Friday," Brittany said, giving a firm nod and extending her hand to shake. "Text me and I'll head over."

Carlos looked at her hand, an amused smile on his lips. He took her hand and then pulled her into a hug. She exhaled and chuckled into his shoulder.

"Thanks, Carlos," Brittany said. "You're a rockstar."

* * *

><p>Brittany stood on her tiptoes to place a candle on top of a shelf. She wore a plain purple t-shirt and cotton shorts as she lit candles around the room. She seemed so calm and happy, preparing the room as if this were what everyone did before conceiving a child.<p>

Santana, dressed in cotton pajama pants and a tank, was fussing with a few objects on the bedside table. She held up a piece of paper, reviewing what was written on it. "Okay, we have the needle-less syringe, the candles, a towel, some lube, the… _specimen_… did I leave anything off the list?"

"A pillow," Brittany said over her shoulder as she lit the final candle on top of their dresser. "For under my hips."

"Right," Santana said, writing it down.

"You have a checklist?" Brittany asked with an amused frown.

Santana nodded, picking out the firmest pillow she could find. "I didn't want to forget anything." She put the pillow in the middle of Brittany's side of the bed, patting it for good measure. "The list also says you should go to the bathroom, since you're going to have to lie back with your hips up for a little bit."

"Did that."

"I still feel like there's something I'm forgetting," Santana said, frowning as she looked around the room.

Brittany glided over to Santana, a peaceful smile on her face. "You," she said, "And me."

"You and me," Santana echoed.

Brittany took her hands, bringing them to her lips for a kiss before squeezing. "You ready?"

Santana nodded with a nervous smile.

"K, let's get me Prego," Brittany grinned. She sat on the edge of the bed, pulling Santana toward her by the hem of her shirt.

"So, uh... how do you want to start?" Santana asked as she stood between Brittany's knees. "Do you just lay there and let me shoot the stuff in or… what? I read that book front to back, but I can't remember anything. This is worse than taking the Bar."

"Sweetie, just relax." Brittany tried to catch Santana's eye as Santana's gaze flitted about the room. "Let's try to remember what this is about, okay? We love each other… so much."

"I know, I love you too… but this is weird. Don't you think it's weird?"

Brittany shrugged. "Not really… I mean, I guess a little."

"Bringing semen back into our lives after nine years is weird."

Brittany gave her a sympathetic chuckle. "Let's not think about semen and concentrate on the baby that we're making," she said, tugging Santana closer. She pulled her down on top of her so their legs hung off the side of the bed.

"Okay. I like that idea… think about the baby," Santana said, scooting Brittany toward the headboard as she crawled up the bed.

"Uh huh…" Brittany murmured, settling onto the sheets once again. "Think about you and me together, becoming a family. The rest is just silly details."

"Right," Santana said, resting her chin between Brittany's breasts and gazing up at her. "I'll just imagine us with a cute little blond baby in our arms. I want our baby to look like you, Britt." She gave Brittany's sides a little tickle and smiled.

"But I want our baby to look like _you_." Brittany smiled back, running her hands through Santana's hair_. "_Just hopefully not so much hair, because that would look weird on a baby."

"Well, Carlos could pass for my brother so it _might_ look like me, but I think a baby Britt would be the most beautiful baby in the world."

Brittany grinned and pulled Santana's chin up, coaxing Santana up the bed closer to her face. "We could argue about this all night, but I'd rather actually try to _make_ our baby. And we'll love it no matter who it looks like."

"Ok. Deal."

Brittany tilted her chin up, signaling for Santana to kiss her. Santana bent down, her anxiety melting a bit against Brittany's lips. Their kisses were gentle and Santana paused a few times to look into Brittany's eyes, smiling.

"So are you ready?" Brittany murmured.

Santana nodded. "Do you want to take off your clothes?" Santana said, sitting up on her knees.

"Yeah, that might give the sperm better access," Brittany said, reaching to slide her shorts down.

Santana gave her a nervous giggle and rolled her eyes as she maneuvered from between Brittany's legs so she could remove her shorts. "I meant _all_ your clothes. Like do we touch each other? Do we get it all set up first? Or, like… I don't know, kiss for a little bit longer? What did you have in mind?"

"I think…" Brittany began, pulling Santana back down by her shirt and placing a soft kiss on Santana's lips, "that we should get everything ready," she hummed, "and keep kissing…" she nipped Santana's neck, "and then just see what happens." She kissed along her jaw. "It doesn't have to be all planned out. We've done enough planning already."

"Okay." Santana glanced at the things on the nightstand. "I'll get the stuff ready and when we feel like the moment's right we can just do it."

Brittany watched as Santana sat up and reached for the cup of sperm. As she did, she nearly knocked it off the nightstand.

"Careful!" Britt gasped just as Santana caught it.

"Ah! Sorry! Sorry sweetie. It's okay, I didn't spill it. Phew, I just need to calm down."

"Take a deep breath."

Santana closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath. "Okay, I'm going to focus on us becoming a family." She picked up the syringe and placed it in the cup, but her hands shook. Brittany watched her struggle for a moment before sitting up.

"Here, let's do it together," Brittany offered. She took the syringe from Santana's hand and placed Santana's hand around the container. As Santana tried to hold her arm steady, Brittany drew the plunger of the syringe up, collecting the contents as best she could.

"There," she said, placing the filled syringe upright in the cup on the nightstand. "All set."

Santana sighed. "I think we're ready. Are you ready? Are you nervous? Does anything feel weird to you?"

"Don't be nervous, sweetie," Brittany said with a gentle smile as she settled back onto the bed. "Nothing bad is going to happen. This is special."

"Of course it's special, B. How often are we going to make a baby together?"

"Well, three times this week," Brittany said with an amused grin.

Santana's eyes widened for a moment. "I don't know if my nerves are going to be able to handle two more times."

"I'm sure by Tuesday you'll be an expert."

"I don't know," Santana said, biting her lip over a coy smile. "This is my first time knocking a girl up."

"Are you sure?" Brittany deadpanned.

"Pretty sure, though it's not for lack of trying," Santana said as she ran her hand under Brittany's shirt and over her stomach. "I'm really happy we're doing this," she murmured.

"Me too," Brittany grinned.

"So… is this the part where we use my cousin's jizz? Cuz it's not gonna stay fresh forever. We got a baby to make here."

Brittany giggled. "Okay. Let's do it." She reached for the towel and slid it underneath her hips.

"Ready Britt?"

"Yep. Are _you_ ready, Santana?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Okay. You know what to do," Brittany smiled, drawing her knees up and sliding her panties off.

Santana reached for the syringe, holding it between two fingers. "I guess put your legs up so I can... uh... access... oh geez," she said as Brittany spread her legs. She held the syringe a bit more securely now, her glance flickering between it and Brittany's face. With the fingers of her free hand she spread Brittany's sex and poised the syringe at her entrance. It dawned on her that she had never really considered the practical uses of Brittany's lady parts before; in their relationship, Brittany's body had always been about enjoyment, comfort and connection. Holding the syringe in her hand, she suddenly felt a foreignness about Brittany. She pulled away.

"My hands are shaking, B. Why am I shaking? It's not like I haven't been down here before. This isn't that difficult." Santana said, her words rushed and betraying just how flustered she was.

Brittany sat up on her elbows. "Making a baby is a big deal. It's okay to be emotional. Here, set that down again. Come cuddle and talk to me."

Santana set the syringe in the cup on the bedside table and lay next to Brittany, sighing. Exhaling calmed her a little bit, but she still felt shivers go through her muscles and stomach. "This moment could change our whole lives, you know that, right? Five minutes from now you could be carrying our child. I feel like I could cry and rip someone's head off at the same time when I think about you being pregnant."

"Aw… you're already such a mama bear," Brittany said, turning onto her side and wrapping her arm over Santana.

"I think I'm having premature sympathetic pregnancy hormones," Santana said, turning toward Brittany. "This is scary and exciting and… I love you _so_ much, Britt."

"I love _you_ so much too. That's why we're doing this. And yeah, you're right, I could be conceiving in five minutes. And you know what _you'll_ be doing in five minutes?" Brittany asked, cupping Santana's cheek.

"Um... smoking a cigarette?

"Secondhand smoke isn't good for the baby, Santana," Brittany deadpanned. She broke into a smile before continuing, "In five minutes you'll be lying here with me just like you are right now. Nothing's going to change right away." She stroked Santana's cheek and looked into her eyes earnestly.

Santana took a deep breath. " You're right, as always. I think I'm ready. Kiss for luck?"

"Better make it two," Brittany said, giving her a peck followed by a longer, wetter kiss. "Or three." She drew Santana tightly to her, letting her tongue flick out for just a moment to meet Santana's. She broke away, smiling.

"Okay. I can do this," Santana said, trying to convince herself more than Brittany. She sat up, reached for the syringe and settled on her knees between Brittany's legs again. "Could you spread your legs a little bit more?"

Brittany opened her legs wider and tilted her head as she watched Santana spread her folds again.

"Oh, I forgot," Santana said, rising on her knees to reach for a bottle of lube. "I'm going to use just a little bit of this so we can get it as close to the cervix as possible."

"See? You're a rockstar. You memorized that book."

Santana gave her a shaky grin as she spread the lubricant over the plastic of the syringe. She furrowed her brow in concentration as she held the syringe back up to Brittany's sex.

"I don't think I've ever seen you frown while looking at my lady parts," Brittany giggled.

"I've never had to concentrate this hard on something else while I was looking at them," Santana countered. "Okay, ready?"

Brittany nodded.

"This is going to be a little cold," Santana warned.

"That's ok." Brittany smiled as she watched Santana's face.

"Here we go." Santana slid the syringe in as far as she could before pressing the plunger down, depositing its contents. "It's in."

"Yay!" Brittany cheered. "See? No big deal. Now we get to relax and just lie here together for a little while."

"Thank god. Why was that so exhausting?

"You were nervous. But now you know it's nothing to be worried about."

"Don't forget to keep your hips up, baby. Here's the pillow." Santana helped Brittany hoist her hips up as she placed the pillow below them. "Is that comfortable?"

Brittany nodded. "C'mere."

Santana snuggled up against Brittany, nuzzling her ear. "How does it feel?

"It just feels like... _you_ know. You remember."

"I try not to," Santana said, scrunching her nose. "Do you think it worked? I mean, I guess we can't get too worried about it at this point. We're not going to know for sure for a few weeks."

"And we've got two more tries this week," Brittany reminded her. "So even if it did, we wouldn't know which one took."

Santana ran her hand across Brittany's stomach.

"The sperm are working pretty hard right now," Brittany smiled, watching Santana's hand. "Swimming for their lives."

Santana giggled and walked her fingertips between Brittany's hips. "Swim, little bastards, swim!"

"Don't curse at our baby, Santana," Brittany said with a smirk.

Santana smiled back and adjusted her head on the pillow. "So I was thinking we could go shopping this weekend and get a rocking chair."

Brittany's face lit up. "Oh, I would love that!"

"I can just imagine you sitting in it and holding her."

"Or him."

"Do you want a boy or a girl?

"Yes," Brittany smiled.

Santana laughed. "I know, I know. It doesn't matter as long as it's healthy. And looks like you."

"We're not going to get into this argument again," Brittany giggled, pulling Santana tighter against her side. "Mother nature gets to decide anyway."

"Well, I'll just have to convince her to agree with me," Santana grinned. She wiggled out of Brittany's embrace and rose to her knees, lifting Brittany's shirt to place a lingering kiss on her stomach before murmuring, "We're getting everything ready for you, little one." She lay down and curled back into Brittany with a peaceful smile on her face, watching the candlelight dance around the room.


	58. In The Waiting Line

**Chapter 58: In The Waiting Line**

Chapter title and **soundtrack**: "In The Waiting Line" by Zero 7

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I'm just as excited as all of you for this storyline. Please take a moment to thank my betas, Mia and terriblemuriel. Enjoy!**

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><p>Time: The next day, mid-September 2020<p>

* * *

><p>"No, no, I got it," Santana insisted, brushing Brittany's hand away.<p>

"But it's so heavy!" Brittany protested, hands still resting on the box of the rocking chair that lay in the trunk.

"All the more reason you _shouldn't_ help me," Santana argued. "Pregnant ladies shouldn't lift heavy things. You read that book just as many times as I did. We're supposed to act like you're pregnant until we know for sure. It's best for both of you."

"Well… okay. Do you want me to find a neighbor to help?" Brittany offered.

"_Nope_," Santana strained as she hoisted the box out of the trunk and held it against her pelvis. "Just get the door!"

The box was actually far too heavy, but Santana would be damned before she'd admit it. Her arms burned and the box cut into the tops of her thighs as she waddled up the steps with it, trying not to let her face betray that she was struggling. When she got inside the entryway, she dropped the box with a louder thud than she intended to, panting for a second before standing up and putting her hands on her hips.

"See?" she puffed. "Told ya I could do it."

"My superwoman…" Brittany hummed, giving her a peck on the cheek. "Am I allowed to help you push it into the nursery?"

"Nope," Santana said, shaking her head with her chest still puffed out. "The only contact you will have with this chair will be sitting in it."

It took Santana an hour—okay, several, if she was being honest—to assemble the chair. It was one of those fancy new ones that had a swinging seat that hung over a stable base, keeping the rocker in place, with a footstool that rocked as well. They had tried out many different chairs, and had both agreed they liked this one best. It made rocking almost effortless and eliminated the risk of pinched fingers and toes and scuffed walls. In the store, Brittany had reached to look at the price tag, but Santana had swatted her hand away. "It's the one we want," she said. Brittany had given her a sheepish smile and examined their options for seat cushions. Santana had eyed the pink and blue ones, but Brittany had quickly reached for sage green. "It goes with anything," she explained.

Santana finished assembling the chair and footstool, checking all the joints twice before taking a test run in the chair. Once she was satisfied that it was secure, she called, "It's ready!"

Brittany came into the room with her hands on her hips. "That was quick," she grinned.

Santana shot her a look that said _nice try_. She stood next to the chair and gestured to it. "Your throne, m'lady."

Brittany's smile grew wider as she walked toward the chair, taking Santana's hand as she sat in it. She rocked back and forth a few times before declaring, "Perfect. Even better than in the store."

Santana pulled the footstool up in front of the chair and sat on it, rocking it back and forth gently. "So how do you want to decorate the room?" she asked, looking around at the walls. "I was thinking I'd like to paint it blue with clouds on the ceiling."

"That'd be pretty. Then the baby will be reminded of heaven," Brittany said, a soft smile tracing her lips as she tilted her head back against the cushion.

"Or just think it's outside on a nice day…" Santana said with a slight frown.

"No, I think babies would think of heaven first. Especially if they're not old enough to have seen summer," Brittany mused.

"Okay," Santana said. She didn't want to get into a theological discussion about heaven and babies and weather. "So shall we go get some paint? I mean, I guess just me, since the fumes aren't good for the baby."

"I don't want to decorate the room until we know we're pregnant," Brittany said.

"Okay," Santana said. "Do you think you are? Do you _feel_ pregnant?"

"I don't know, I've never been pregnant before," Brittany said with a playful smile.

"I know, but like… do you feel tired, sick or dizzy or sore?"

"No," Brittany said, her smile radiating calm. "It's only been a day, S. Give it time."

"Okay," Santana sighed, leaning forward the next time her seat rocked forward. She held there and puckered her lips as Brittany leaned forward with a smile, bringing their lips together.

* * *

><p>"How are you feeling?" was the first thing Santana demanded when she walked in the door. It had been a week since they had completed the first series of inseminations.<p>

Brittany grinned from her spot on the couch. "Fine. A little tired."

"Does that mean you might be…?"

Brittany shrugged and smiled. "We'll see. We have to wait one more week." She closed her laptop and got off the couch.

"Longest week ever," Santana griped. "I just want to _know_."

"Patience, grasshopper," Brittany said with a smile, walking toward Santana.

"That's not my strongest trait," Santana acknowledged. "I blame the internet. Everything else in the world is instant: why can't babies be too?"

"Because babies are special," Brittany said, her voice soft as she approached Santana with her arms outstretched. She wrapped them around Santana's neck. "Things that are special take longer."

Santana sighed into Brittany's embrace, pressing their foreheads together. "I know."

They stood there for a minute, eyes closed as they felt the warmth between them. Moments like this together stood outside time and space, grounding Santana and reminding her of what was really important. She always became aware of Brittany's breathing, which made her aware of her own. It was meditative; her attention was drawn to the warmth of Brittany's stomach and breasts against hers, the pressure of their foreheads together, her hands on Brittany's back and the small space where air flowed between their lips. Nothing could shake that focus.

"I missed you today," Santana mumbled. "I was thinking about you a lot."

"I was thinking about you too."

Santana let a few more seconds of meditation pass before she moved her hands from Brittany's back and held her waist, opening her eyes. "How was your second day of class?"

"It was great. I'm so glad I decided to do this."

"Did you meet anyone nice?" Santana asked, pulling away and reaching for the mail.

"Yeah, the other girls seem pretty great. There's a few guys too," Brittany said, returning to the couch and opening her computer. "I mean, we're all going into nursing, so we like helping people. Everyone's friendly."

"I hope you make some good friends. I want our baby to have lots of aunties and uncles."

"I hope I make friends, too," Brittany smiled. "And not just so our baby has aunties and uncles."

"You can never have too many friends," Santana agreed. "How are the professors?"

"Most of them aren't PhDs, they're nurses who teach on the side. They seem good, at least so far. It's a lot of work, though."

"Do you think you'll be able to balance school and pregnancy?"

"I think so," Brittany said. "It's not like sitting on an egg waiting for it to hatch. Life goes on, you know? The fetus just kind of does its thing while you live your life."

"But you'll need more rest and good nutrition and stuff," Santana said, tossing the junk mail in the recycling bin under the sink.

"I should be doing those things anyway," Brittany shrugged. "I feel like we should all treat our bodies like we're pregnant. That kind of preventative care could go a long way."

"Spoken like a nurse already," Santana grinned, walking back into the living room and leaning over the back of the sofa to kiss Brittany's cheek. "So, Nurse Pierce, when do we get to take the first pregnancy test?"

"Next week," Brittany said. "If I don't get my period by Wednesday, we take the test."

"I can't wait," Santana said, placing another kiss right below Brittany's ear.

* * *

><p>Santana sighed as she returned to her desk after lunch. None of her work recently had been interesting, and sometimes she caught herself daydreaming about doing actual litigation instead of this drudgery. And it was only Monday! But she didn't have much grounds to complain; the job was good, she had friendly coworkers, and she got benefits that covered Brittany too, which was not that common in Ohio. Plus, over the past months she'd been able to make large payments on her student loans, and having that debt start to clear out made her feel more secure. Of course, as her debt dwindled, Brittany's was just starting to accumulate. She hoped someday they'd stop incurring debt faster than she could make money, but she kept reminding herself that student loans were the best kind of debt; securing their future was important, especially now that they were starting their family.<p>

She was about to reopen a contract she had been reviewing when her office phone rang.

"Schneider and Hembraugh Consulting, Santana Lopez speaking," she answered.

"Hey, Santana, I'm working from home today," Denton said on the other end of the line. "Did you hear?" he asked, his tone darkening.

"Hear what?"

"The Senate sat on the bill," he muttered.

"They did _what_?"

"They sat on it. They're not even going to review it until the next session," Denton sighed.

"When's the next session?" Santana asked, half-cringing at the possible answers.

"Next year."

"What!" Santana growled. "How can they _do_ that? It was one of the biggest ticket items on the agenda!"

"No shit. Homophobia is alive and well in Ohio."

"I hope they drive their Beamers off a cliff," Santana spat. "Did they provide an explanation?"

"They just said they had too many proposed bills this session."

Santana muttered a string of curse words that was impressive, even for her.

"Easy, Lopez," Denton warned.

Santana huffed. "What do we do now?"

"I was thinking we could get Elinor on board and start planning some demonstrations. But we're going to go totally above ground on that. No riots. I want permits. I want law enforcement involved and on our side. I want it to be squeaky-clean. I don't want any mishaps associated with the bill. Understand?"

"Yes," Santana sighed. "Squeaky-clean. I'll call Elinor. Later, Denton."

Santana hung up and called Elinor, left a voicemail and returned to the boring contract she had to go over.

Elinor called back later that afternoon. "Hey," she said. "Sorry, I just got your message."

"Oh, good," Santana said. "So are you in?"

"With planning the protest? Yeah, definitely."

"Okay, great. Denton and I are having a meeting tonight to go over which permits we want to apply for. Can you come by my place around seven?"

"Um… yeah, I guess I could do that. I can move some stuff around," Elinor said, sounding uncertain.

"Move _what_ stuff around? What's more important than getting this bill through right now?" Santana said, not masking the frown in her voice.

"I was going to take Eliza and Andrew out to dinner, but I could probably do it a different night. Danielle won't mind once I tell her what it's for."

"Kay," Santana said, still frowning. It seemed odd to her that Elinor wasn't outraged, but she shook it off, figuring that something else must be going on. "How's it going with her?"

"It's going great. Like, _really_ great."

"And the kids like you?"

"So far. I mean, we just hang out on occasion. Eliza's a sweetheart, but Andrew seems a little iffy, like he's not sure what to think of me. Danielle just says to give him time."

"She's probably right. Hey, want to come hang out with me and Britt Friday night? We're going to film night in the park."

"Oh, how cute. You know, I don't know what our plans are this weekend…" Elinor mused. She seemed distracted.

"Okay," Santana said.

There was a pause that Elinor didn't fill like usual.

"Well, let me know. We always love to see you," Santana offered.

"Okay, I will. See you tonight."

"See ya."

* * *

><p>Santana came home on Tuesday, tired and discouraged from a fruitless day of planning the protest. "Britt?" she called as she set down her briefcase and took off her shoes.<p>

Brittany's voice drifted into the hallway from the nursery, "I'm in here."

Santana walked into the nursery and saw Brittany sitting in the rocking chair with her feet on the footstool. Santana gave her a tired smile.

"How was your day?" Brittany asked. She looked exhausted, her head leaning against the pillowed back of the chair.

Santana sighed and walked toward her. Brittany moved her feet to the side of the stool and Santana sat sideways on it, turning toward her. "It was long. I'm trying to balance planning the rally to protest the stalling of the bill with the rest of my work and it's complicated. It's not easy to get permits for demonstrations like that…"

"Aw, I'm sorry baby."

Santana shrugged, as if to say _that's life_. "How was your day?"

"It was okay…" Brittany said. Her eyes flickered to the ground for a moment before she looked back at Santana. "I'm not pregnant."

"How do you- oh." Santana's whole body sank.

"I'm sorry," Brittany mumbled, watching her fingers as she played with them in her lap.

Brittany looked so sad, Santana dismissed her own disappointment so she could comfort her. "It's not your fault, sweetie," Santana said. "C'mere," she said, extending her arms as she leaned toward the chair. Brittany put her feet down and sat forward, placing her head on Santana's shoulder as they embraced.

"We knew it might not happen right away. We'll try again in two weeks," Santana assured, running her fingers a few times through Brittany's hair.

Brittany took a slow, deep breath, sighing as she nodded into Santana's shoulder. "Yeah," she said. "Okay."


	59. Not Now But Soon

**Chapter 59: Not Now But Soon**

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><p>AN: Thank you so much to my awesome betas, Mia and terriblemuriel. Also, my proofreader, Emma's 409.

If you want to download the soundtrack songs to this story, there is a link on my profile that will take you to a folder where you can download them for free. Enjoy!

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><p>Three weeks later, Early October 2020<p>

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><p>Santana closed the trunk with an emphatic slam. They had packed it with various signs they had made over the past week. There were many familiar slogans about marriage equality, but Santana's favorite was one Brittany had thought of: <em>Our love is forever, but we want justice now<em>.

"I still don't know how I feel about you coming with me," Santana said as she climbed into the car. They had done a second round of inseminations the week prior and were anxiously waiting to find out if Brittany was pregnant.

"S, it's fine. It's not like we're going to a rave. I want to be there to fight for our rights too."

"But you could be pregnant and I don't want you there if it gets rowdy."

"I'll be fine, Brittany assured. "I'll just hold my sign and yell the chants like everyone else. If it gets too rowdy, I'll leave."

"Yeah, but if you're carrying our baby… I just—I'm sorry, I'm _really_ protective right now."

"I know," Brittany said with a tired smile. "I'll be fine."

When they arrived at the state capitol building, there was already a crowd gathered in front. Santana surveyed the scene nervously; the crowd was growing by the minute and people were jostling about. Once they joined the other protesters, she subtly boxed around Brittany, unsure if she should stand in front of her or behind her to protect her best. The crowd grew thicker and thicker and her anxiety was rising. She wanted to get Brittany _out_. Then she heard a voice over a bullhorn – Denton. Standing on her tiptoes to look around, she saw he was standing on a four-foot high platform about a hundred feet away. She took Brittany's hand and led her through the crowd, looking for the widest openings between people, glancing back at her every few seconds until they reached the platform. She put her foot on a metal rung and climbed up, sitting on her knees and extending her hand down to Brittany.

"Hop up," Santana said. "Just—be _really_ careful."

Brittany raised her eyebrow but took her hand, allowing Santana to help hoist her up onto the platform.

"You okay?" Santana asked when Brittany stood beside her, dusting off her knees.

Brittany gave her a little frown. "I'm fine."

They stood with Denton, Elinor and Danielle and a few others on the platform, holding signs and joining in with the chanting.

"What do we want?"

"Rights!"

"When do we want them?"

"Now!"

Denton's charismatic commentary on the stalling of the bill entertained and bolstered the crowd, who hung on his every word. After a particularly rousing speech, Denton looked at Santana, nodded towards the loudspeaker and raised his eyebrow. _Want to lead the crowd?_ His face asked.

Santana's eyes widened like a deer in the headlights as she took a step back, shaking her head.

Denton shrugged and returned to leading the crowd in their chanting.

_What do we want? Marriage! When do we want it? Now!_

The pattern of speeches interspersed with chanting continued for about half an hour, and Santana's throat was starting to get hoarse from the shouting.

"Hey, are you thirsty?" she asked Brittany over the crowd.

Brittany nodded. Laying her sign down, Santana scrambled off the platform and held her arms up to Brittany, who stepped down after her. They walked around the building to a deli and Santana bought them each a bottle of water. Brittany was cheerful; there was a skip in her step as she took Santana's hand and walked back toward the crowd.

As they neared the demonstration, a zealous young man ran past them and bumped Brittany's shoulder, spilling some of her water. Brittany sputtered and stumbled, catching herself with her quick footing.

"Watch what you're doing, asshole!" Santana barked after him.

"Whoa, sorry dude, chill out!" the man defended.

"I'm not a dude, ass wipe!" Santana called after him. "Just don't fucking touch my girlfriend!"

"Santana!" Brittany scolded under her breath. "Calm down! He barely brushed my shoulder!"

"Yeah, but Britt—"

"Shush!" Brittany said, frowning. "No buts! Don't be rude."

Santana gave her a look that said _what's your problem_? "He can't treat you like that! I swear if anyone comes near you, I'm gonna—"

Brittany grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her against the side of the building.

"This _doesn't_ work for me," Brittany huffed. "If you're going to treat me like I'm made of glass and attack anyone who comes within five feet of me, I'm never going to be able to go out in public or do anything enjoyable. I don't need a bubble of protection. You need to trust that I'm taking care of myself and protecting any child I might be carrying, okay? Stop being so controlling."

"I'm not being controlling, I'm just—"

"You're being _totally_ controlling," Brittany argued. "Just chill out or I'm gonna go home."

"I wanted you to stay home in the first place!"

"Fine. You know what? I'm leaving," Brittany said. Her voice was flat, which always made Santana worry.

"I'm coming with you," Santana said, determined.

"No. You stay. I'll take the bus," Brittany said, turning to walk away. Santana tried to follow but Brittany spun around with a warning look. "Stay."

"Take the car, sweetie," Santana pleaded.

"The bus is fine," Brittany called over her shoulder.

"Britt, wait!"

* * *

><p>Santana returned home an hour later, flowers in hand and a sheepish look on her face. Brittany was lying in bed watching TV.<p>

"Hey," Santana murmured, walking cautiously towards her.

"Hey," Brittany said, not looking away from the TV.

"I'm really sorry," Santana mumbled, placing the flowers on the nightstand. "I was being controlling."

Brittany looked up, seeing Santana's expression and the flowers lying next to her.

Santana continued, "I'm going to try really hard to let you do things just like normal. I know you're not going to do anything that puts a potential pregnancy at risk."

Brittany exhaled. "Thank you. And I think I overreacted a little bit."

"Well," Santana said, tilting her head a bit. "Maybe. But I wasn't listening when you told me to stop, so… yeah. I'm sorry I was harsh."

"I was kind of harsh too. Maybe I'm hormonal," Brittany said. She extended her arm up to Santana, inviting her to hug her.

"I hope you're hormonal," Santana said, bending down to kiss Brittany's forehead and give her a squeeze. "Pregnant-hormonal I mean. Can I get you something to eat? Drink? A foot massage?"

"I think I'm okay. Thank you, though. Want to watch with me?" Brittany asked, gesturing with the remote toward the TV.

"What are you watching?" Santana asked, straightening up and walking around the bed to her side.

"Baby Story," Brittany smiled.

"Baby Story?" Santana asked, crawling over to Brittany and snuggling loosely into her new position as Big Spoon. Although she was shorter, she found she fit quite well.

"Yeah," Brittany grinned. "They follow two people expecting a baby and show you how they get ready and stuff. And then you get to see the birth."

"Wait, like… the _whole_ birth?" Santana asked, eyebrows arched.

"They don't show any vaginas. Don't get too excited."

"I wasn't getting excited, I was getting ready to faint at all the blood," Santana admitted.

"How are you going to handle _our_ baby's birth?" Brittany asked, eyebrows arched.

"By sheer force of will and prescription anxiety medication."

"How about this?" Brittany said, reaching behind her for Santana's hand, clasping it and holding it on her stomach. "You stay up by my head and hold my hand and let the doctors deal with the blood. I'll want you there with me anyway, to keep me strong."

"Sounds good, baby." Santana leaned forward to kiss Brittany's shoulder. "But you're strong even without me."

* * *

><p>A week later, Santana was folding laundry in the bedroom when she heard Brittany sniffling. She walked into the kitchen and saw Brittany sitting at the table, surrounded by textbooks.<p>

"Sweetie?" Santana asked, her voice conveying her concern.

"I'm fine," Brittany mumbled, shielding her eyes with her hand.

"No you're not, you're upset," Santana argued, surveying the mountains of books and Brittany's slumped shoulders. "What's wrong?"

"This is really hard!" Brittany whimpered, moving her hand so Santana could see she was teary. "There are too many things I have to memorize!"

Santana walked toward her and crouched next to her chair, looking up at Brittany's face as she fought to keep from scrunching it.

"I think—I think I'm just not a good student," Brittany sniffled.

"Aw, Britt, of _course_ you're a good student," Santana murmured, running her hand over Brittany's leg. "You did great in college, remember? Your professors _loved_ you."

"That's because they _liked_ being teachers. I don't think my teachers now like being teachers. They're kind of… they're kind of mean."

"How are they mean?" Santana asked, frowning.

"They don't—they don't like when I ask questions," Brittany stammered.

"But it's their _job_ to answer questions," Santana said, her frown deepening. She was about to launch into a tirade about the cost of nursing school and how those teachers should be available to answer Brittany's questions at any hour of the day or night, but she knew that would only upset Brittany more. Instead, she opted for Brittany's approach: humor. "Want me to tell them we've got Lesbian Mob connections and they need to be nicer to you?"

Brittany let out a lackluster chuckle before her expression returned to mournful. "I'm just scared I'm gonna be a bad nurse," she mumbled. "If I can't memorize this stuff, how am I gonna be able to help people?"

"Being a good nurse has nothing to do with textbooks and memorizing stuff, sweetheart," Santana cooed, rubbing Brittany's knee. "I know people who did really well in law school that are terrible lawyers. And some really good lawyers who didn't do well in law school. You have that natural helping ability and you're brave and you're good with people and you're not phased by blood or bedpans or gross hospital food... You'll be a _great_ nurse."

Brittany let the corners of her mouth creep up in a smile, though it was watery. "I think I'm just having a bad day. The teachers probably aren't that mean," she shrugged.

Santana settled onto her knees next to Brittany's chair with a sympathetic smile. "What else is going on, sweetheart?" she asked as she extended her other arm around Brittany's back.

"Um... well, I guess I'm going to have to tell you at some point," Brittany muttered. She took a heavy breath. "I'm not pregnant. I'm sorry."

"Aw, Britt... I wish you had told me right away."

"I just get really sad," Brittany said in her smallest voice. "I don't want you to be sad too."

"I know, but it's better to be sad together than be sad _and_lonely," Santana said, letting her lower lip stick out in a little pout. "Can I make you some macaroni and cheese? Maybe some brownies?"

Brittany shifted up a little straighter and nodded.

Santana rose to her feet, kissing Brittany on the forehead before walking into the kitchen. She came back to the table with the food fifteen minutes later, pulling out a chair and sitting with one knee drawn to her chest. "The brownies are in the oven. Can I help?" she asked as she placed Brittany's bowl on top of a textbook.

"No, I'm just memorizing body parts."

"Ooo, can I help?" Santana said with a coy smile.

Brittany gave her a pained look and turned the page of her book.

"Sorry," Santana retracted. "Can I help for real?"

"Maybe you can quiz me in a little bit. But I'm still overwhelmed. I think I'm going to ask this girl in my class for help," Brittany said. "She seems really smart."

"Invite her over," Santana encouraged. "You said you wanted to make new friends."

"Yeah," Brittany smiled. "I do."

* * *

><p>A week later Santana came home to find Brittany and a petite, wiry brunette sitting at the table surrounded by textbooks, papers, note cards and writing utensils. They didn't appear to be studying though — they were doubled over with laughter, Brittany's face red and strained from laughing so hard.<p>

"What's so funny, guys?" Santana asked with a smile as she set down her briefcase.

"Our teacher!" Brittany chortled. "Nicole does the best impression."

Nicole puffed out her cheeks and began shifting around in her chair, muttering, "So you see class, if a patient is having palpitations and extreme diaphoresis, you should immediately begin an EKG."

Santana didn't find the impression probable or humorous, but Brittany was straining against the back of her chair clutching her stomach, almost in tears with laughter. Santana forced herself to giggle before extending her hand to Nicole. "Nice to meet you, Nicole. I'm Santana."

"Well, obviously," Nicole said with a smile, holding up her fist for Santana to bump instead of shaking her hand.

"How long have you guys been studying?" Santana asked, nodding towards the papers and note cards strewn across the table.

"Oh, I dunno... since, like, three? A while," Nicole shrugged.

"She taught me the coolest way to remember how to administer medication. The acronym TRAMP!" Brittany giggled. "Time, Route, Amount, Medication, Patient."

Santana chuckled. "That's great, B. Are you gonna be ready for dinner in a bit?" Santana asked.

"Nicole brought over a rotisserie chicken," Brittany chirped.

"Oh!" Santana said in surprise. "Cool, thanks. So how long have you been living in Columbus, Nicole?"

"I've lived her since I was seven," Nicole said over her shoulder before turning back to Brittany. "Oh my God, Brittany, did you see Shelly's face when they were showing that video on smoking today?"

"Totally. She looked like she was about to throw up." Brittany glanced up at Santana, who was tilting her head to read the title of one of their textbooks. Brittany cleared her throat. "Okay, now your turn, Nicole. _Quantum materiae materietur marmota monax si marmota monax materiam possit materiari_?"

"Latin again, Britt?" Santana asked, smiling as she took off her blazer and shoes.

"Yup, it's our trade-off!" Brittany chirped. "She helps me study and I teach her Latin. Okay, so what did I say, Nic?"

"Can you repeat it?" Nicole asked, scrunching up her nose.

"_Quantum materiae materietur marmota monax si marmota monax materiam possit materiari_?" Brittany said.

"How much material does a marmot... possum? I don't know!" Nicole said, throwing up her hands.

"_Proxima sed non corona._" Santana grinned, reaching for the mail on the counter.

"What?" Nicole said with a blank stare.

"Close but no cigar," Santana said, winking at Brittany. "She asked you how much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood."

"You know Latin, too?" Nicole asked Santana. "Is that a lesbian thing?"

Santana chuckled. "No. Britt tutored me in college. She's the expert."

"I know!" Nicole bubbled, "She totally knows, like, _all_ the body parts in Latin already. Makes my job a lot easier!"

"What are you guys studying?" Santana asked, nodding towards the books.

"The renal system. Kidneys and urethras and bladders, oh my!" Brittany bubbled.

Nicole beamed at Brittany, clearly pleased with herself.

"That sounds... interesting," Santana said, clearly dubious.

"It totally is. I think we're going to learn how to insert catheters soon, which will be really cool! The most I've ever done before is an external IV," Nicole bragged.

"When do you start your labs?" Santana asked.

"In a few weeks, right B? Which one are you looking forward to?"

"I don't really know... Labs only make sense in the lab; training on the job makes more sense. So I'm more looking forward to next semester when we actually get to start practicum. I know that's how I learn best."

"You're a very hands-on person," Santana said with a coy smile.

Nicole fought a giggle. "She gives really great massages, too."

"How do you know?" Santana asked.

"My back was bothering me in class and she offered. It's so hard just _sitting_ all day. I used to exercise so much more... every day instead of twice a week, if I'm lucky. I'm getting all blubbery, but with all these classes, something's gotta give, you know?"

"Yeah... I know a lot of stuff fell by the wayside when I was in law school. But the important things survived," Santana said, smiling at Brittany.

"Seems that way," Nicole said, noting their smile. "I'm totally jealous of you two, by the way. Brittany told me you're going on _nine_ _years_! That's insane!"

"Actually we passed nine years in August. So, nine years, three months," Brittany grinned.

"Ugh, so _cute_," Nicole declared. "My longest relationship was two, and that's only because his mother was super Catholic and loved me to pieces, so she wouldn't let him dump me... But whatever, I was totally thinking about dumping him too, and he had all this hair on his back..."

Santana pursed her lips. Part of her was highly amused by Nicole, but she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to get to know her more.

"Hey, is anyone hungry?" Nicole asked, sitting up a little straighter.

"Me, me, me!" Brittany said, bouncing in her chair.

"Okay, I'll get plates," Nicole offered. "Want to join us, Santana?"

Santana was a little taken aback at Nicole's invitation to eat dinner in her own home, but answered with a simple, "Sure."

After they had eaten dinner, Santana was ready to debrief her day with Brittany, and Brittany alone. She hinted as much. "It's been so nice meeting you," she said, turning to Nicole with a forced smile. "I know Britt really appreciates you helping her study. I hope you come back soon."

"Oh Britt, we have to watch Diamond in the Rough! It's on in five minutes!" Nicole exclaimed. She turned to Santana with a feigned sympathetic smile. "Everyone's been talking at school about if Brandon will make it through this round," she explained.

"What's Diamond in the Rough?" Santana frowned.

"It's like, the best show ever," Nicole gushed. "Kind of like the Bachelorette and Survivor mixed together. It's basically a bunch of shirtless guys competing on a beach to spend time with this one girl. She has a couple friends there to distract the boys, and sometimes they lose their focus."

"That sounds _fascinating_. But don't you want to watch our show, Britt?" Santana raised her eyebrows with a smile, indicating she meant the latest episode of Baby Story.

"We can TiVo it," Brittany dismissed with a smile. "Brandon's our favorite."

"He's _so_ hot," Nicole gushed. "Like, smoldering."

"Totally," Brittany agreed. "Did you see the way he looked at Shaundra last week?"

"Like, oh my god, they just need to get married already."

"Yeah, but then he wouldn't win and I'd cry," Brittany said.

"Okay, well... you two have fun with your show," Santana said, getting up to clear the table. She rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, wanting nothing to do with Brandon.

When she was done she walked into the living room and surveyed the way Brittany and Nicole sat on the couch, clutching the cushions in anticipation. "I guess I'll go... look over some contracts," she muttered, walking into the bedroom.

* * *

><p>"Santana, wake up!" Brittany whispered, giggling as she crawled on top of her.<p>

"Mmm," Santana groaned, not moving.

"C'mon, wake up," Brittany said, shaking her.

"Britt, I'm asleep, stop it," Santana whined, rolling further into her pillow.

"I know, but I really want to get naked with you," Brittany pouted.

"I'm tired," Santana argued.

"I'll make you untired," Brittany bubbled. "And afterwards you'll sleep even better."

"It's late and you've been out in the living room with another girl all night."

"Aww, Santana, are you jealous? She's straight and nowhere near as sexy as you. Don't be jealous, Taquita."

"Taquita?" Santana asked, rolling slightly towards Brittany, still groggy.

"The female version of taquito, _duh_," Brittany said. "You're delicious and a little spicy and I want to eat you up. C'mon, get naked with me." Brittany tried to take Santana's tank off.

"B, that tickles. Why are you so hyper?"

"Because I want to get naked with you!" Brittany was enthusiastic as she licked Santana from her collarbone up to her neck.

Santana shivered, still only half awake. "Mmm... You sure you don't want to get naked with Brandon?" she mumbled, pouting.

"No," Brittany giggled, shaking her head.

"Just checking," Santana said, a smile creeping up her cheeks.

"I only want to get naked with the person I'm going to marry and have babies with, and that's you." Brittany pressed her lips into Santana's, swiping her tongue out. "But right now I want to use my lady parts for something other than making babies," she said, wiggling her eyebrows and slipping her fingers into the waistband of Santana's pajamas, pulling them down.

Santana smiled, shaking herself awake as she lifted her hips and ran her hands under Brittany's shirt.

"So... Taquita, huh?"

Brittany gave her an enthusiastic nod before bending down to nip Santana's neck.

* * *

><p>A week later<p>

* * *

><p>"Hey El," Santana sighed, shutting the bedroom door. The animated talk and laughter coming from the living room was quickly starting to wear on her.<p>

"Hey, Santana," Elinor said, guilt tingeing her voice on the other end of the telephone line. "Sorry it's been a while. How _are _you?"

"I'm okay..." Santana muttered, flopping backwards onto the bed. "Brittany's new friend is annoying the hell out of me at the moment."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm glad Britt has a good friend here, but did she have to pick someone I can't stand?"

"What can't you stand about her?"

"I don't know... everything? She's just _annoying_."

"Like her voice? Or her laugh? Oh god, does she upspeak?"

"Upspeak?"

Elinor donned her best valleygirl voice. "Like, end every sentence like it's a _question_?" she demonstrated. "Upspeaking is probably the biggest crime committed by females in the US."

"Agreed," Santana muttered. "No, she doesn't upspeak. She's just really high energy and she gets Britt all goofy."

"Aw, and you don't find that a little bit cute?"

"Well, of course _Britt_ is cute, but Nicole is just obnoxious. At first she was fine, but now I can only take about five minutes of her before I need to leave the room. They spend more time falling out of their chairs laughing at jokes I don't find funny than actually studying. I feel guilty resenting this girl, because Britt's happy to have a study buddy and she's doing better in her classes... But after Nicole leaves, Brittany's all wired and I can't calm her down."

"So just go in your room and let her spin for a while."

"Yeah, I guess..."

"You don't have to like all her friends, you know," Elinor suggested. "I mean, _your_ friends are perfect and of course Brittany loves them all, but you don't have to share all the same friends. I think a lot of lesbians fall into the trap of thinking that. Just let Nicole be the annoying friend who makes Brittany happy and goofy and let me be the awesomer friend you both like."

Santana chuckled. "You _are_ the awesomer friend, don't worry. Although I haven't heard much from you lately. How are you?"

"Good, good," Elinor clucked. "Just doing the relationship thing. Danielle is just..." she sighed. "She was _so_ worth the wait."

Elinor launched into a detailed monologue about all Danielle's qualities. Although Santana felt guilty about it, she let her mind wander as she occasionally responded with 'cool' or 'that's awesome.' She looked around the room, her gaze alighting on a purple candle they had placed next to the bed the night before during the final insemination in their third round of trying.

"I'm happy for you, El," Santana said when she heard a pause in Elinor's speech. She let her Brittany-might-be-pregnant smile shine through the line before refocusing on her conversation with Elinor. "Danielle seems great. We should do more double-date stuff together."

"Yeah, maybe," Elinor said.

"How's your job?"

"It's good!" Elinor said emphatically. "I like litigating. I missed that the past year."

"I'm _so_ jealous. Don't tell Denton I said this, but my job is pretty boring."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah... but it's fine," Santana dismissed. "It's nice to have stability. I can support Britt and pay off loans and it's easy most days."

"Well _that's_ why you're bored," Elinor said. "Santana Lopez and 'easy' don't go together. Wait... that's not true. They did in high school," she teased.

"Hey!" Santana objected with a laugh.

Elinor laughed back. "I just mean it's obvious why you're bored. You're not being challenged."

"I know..." Santana sighed. "But this is Britt's time to shine. She was bored for _years_ while I was in law school."

"True. Well, relationships are all about compromise."

"The love overshadows a lot of the compromise. I don't mind sacrificing for her."

"And that's why you two work," Elinor smiled. "Anything else new with you?"

Santana wanted so badly to tell Elinor about their efforts toward starting a family. She wanted someone she could talk to about her excitement, her anxiety about parenthood, and the disappointment of the failed first two attempts. But aside from her initial slipup with Denton, she and Brittany had agreed not to tell anyone, even Brittany's parents. They thought it was best until they knew for sure they had conceived; they didn't want unsolicited advice or opinions on their process. So Santana bit her tongue.

"No, nothing much..." she sighed.

"Well, no news is good news, right? Hey, it's good to talk to you, but I've gotta run."

"Oh. Uh, okay," Santana responded. There was a pause. "Say hi to Danielle for me."

"I will. Give my love to Brittany."

* * *

><p>Two weeks later, Santana came home a bit later than usual. She had stopped at the craft store to pick up a blank scrapbook.<p>

"Hey B?" she called, looking into the living and not seeing her there.

"In here," Brittany called from down the hall.

Santana poked her head into the nursery, but Brittany wasn't there either.

"Bedroom," Brittany clarified.

Santana walked into the bedroom and saw Brittany in bed, curled on her side, looking miserable. It took only a second for Santana to notice the extension cord of the heating pad running under the covers to Brittany's stomach.

"Aw... babe. Cramps?" Santana asked gently, moving toward the bed.

Brittany nodded and her eyes glistened with tears. "It's double awful because I have cramps and we don't have a baby..." she sniffled as Santana knelt beside the bed.

"I know..." Santana cooed. "But we'll try again." She brushed Brittany's hair away from her forehead, watching as Brittany stared out the window over her shoulder. The blue of Brittany's eyes seemed a little duller, but maybe they were just reflecting the overcast November dusk outside.

"I got us something," Santana said, trying to rouse Brittany from her sadness. She took the scrapbook out of her briefcase and placed it on the bed beside Brittany. "It's a scrapbook. I thought maybe tonight we could make a book for our baby. For... _whenever_ it gets here. I want to have a book we can show him or her all about our life before we were moms. How we met, trips we took, people that were important to us, special occasions, favorite places... a 'before' picture of your tummy, and a picture every month until the baby is born. We can call it the 'Before You Were Born' book."

"That's sweet, S." Brittany's voice drooped as much as her smile.

"Do you want to? Because I can get all the stuff and we can lay in bed while we make it so you can keep the heating pad on," Santana offered. She desperately wanted to cheer Brittany up.

"I think we should wait until the baby's on the way to do that," Brittany said, her voice sullen. "It seems like bad luck to do it before."

"Okay," Santana said, softening as she reached to run her fingers through Brittany's hair. She studied Brittany's melancholy expression for a minute before she had another idea. "How about something a little different?" she offered. "We could make a special space to help our baby come to us soon. A little area that we set up together, where we can put things that will help us get pregnant. Fertility symbols and stuff. Every time we do an insemination we can add something to it or light a candle."

"A fertility altar?" Brittany said, her eyebrows arching in surprise.

"Uh huh," Santana said. "I remember reading about it in the lezbaby book. It seemed like something you would like."

"I _would_ like that," Brittany said, reaching for Santana's hand.

Santana smiled, settling further onto the carpet as she squeezed Brittany's hand. "Okay. As soon as you're feeling better, we'll make one."

* * *

><p>A few days later, Santana cleared off the top of their dresser, laying a pink cloth Brittany had selected across it. "Okay, what should we put on our baby hope table?" she said, centering the cloth and smoothing it with her hands.<p>

Brittany stood next to Santana, hands on her hips. "How about..." her eyes darted to the ceiling for a moment before settling back on Santana. "Our potted orchid. Because orchids need careful tending and just the right environment to bloom. And they grow slowly and flower just once a year... kind of like a pregnancy."

"Perfect." Santana retrieved the orchid from the kitchen and placed it on the dresser. "What else, sweetheart?"

"How about a pretty rock?" Brittany suggested.

"Okay," Santana nodded. "What does the rock stand for?"

"You and me being solid and ready to support the baby," Brittany said with pride.

Santana smiled. "Would the Welcome rock by the door work?"

"Yeah!" Brittany nodded, her eyes brightening. "That's perfect." She darted into the hall and opened the door, returning with the rock. "We're welcoming the pregnancy and the baby into our lives," she smiled, adjusting it on the dresser.

"I know you like lighting candles," Santana said. "What color candle goes on the baby hope table?"

"Purple," Brittany said immediately, taking a few steps and picking one up off a shelf. "It's a very fertile color. Pink is too, that's why I chose this cloth. And I want to get a notebook for poems and wishes."

"Okay. That sounds wonderful, Britt. We can add to the notebook every time we do an insemination."

Brittany grinned and nodded. "And one more thing..." she said. She reached in a drawer and pulled out their camera. "I really like your idea of taking a picture of my tummy. Putting the picture on the altar helps direct the wishes and hopes into me." She handed Santana the camera and rolled her shirt up, tucking it into the elastic of her bra. Santana turned the camera on and held it up to take a picture.

"No, wait," Brittany protested. "You have to be in the picture too. Stand behind me."

Santana walked toward Brittany and stood behind her, holding the camera out in front of Brittany's stomach. Brittany plucked the camera from her fingers and placed Santana's hands flat against her stomach, fingers framing her bellybutton. "Like that," she instructed.

Santana leaned up to kiss Brittany's cheek just as the flash of the camera flitted across Brittany's stomach and Santana's hands. Although the camera didn't capture their faces, they were both smiling.


	60. I'll Be Home For Christmas

**Chapter 60: I'll Be Home For Christmas**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter title and soundtrack: "I'll Be Home For Christmas." I'm fond of the Sarah McLachlan version.<strong>

**Thank you to my betas terriblemuriel and HoneyFigsAndDarkChocolate! They were champs about giving me edits right away so I could do my promised Sunday post :) And now, back to Lima...**

* * *

><p>Santana sat on the window bench of the Pierce's kitchen, absentmindedly tracing patterns in the corner of the foggy window as she watched snow fall outside. Brittany was baking cookies in the kitchen behind her, the shuffle of pans and spatulas barely registering in Santana's mind. She wondered, as she gazed out the window, if perhaps this year she should pay her parents a visit at Christmas. Last year she had avoided the ordeal, citing the stress around Gordon's stroke as an adequate excuse. But this year, especially after her father's expression of quiet support for her relationship with Brittany, she felt guiltier than usual about her lack of communication.<p>

Brittany walked over to the table and set down a plastic-wrapped plate of cookies with ribbons tied around it. She slid the plate toward Santana with a smile.

"What's this for?" Santana asked, flicking one of the ribbons with her finger.

"Your parents," Brittany chirped. "We should visit them this afternoon."

"_We_?" Santana asked skeptically.

"Yeah. I mean, they're going to be my in-laws..." Brittany shrugged. "I feel like I should get to know them a little better. Even if they're not totally excited about us getting married."

Guilt washed over Santana. "Oh... um, they actually... they don't know," she stammered.

Brittany's eyebrows jolted halfway to her hairline.

"I know, it's absurd I haven't told them... it's been nine months..." Santana mumbled, fingering the ring on her necklace. "I just couldn't figure out _how_ to tell them, and I didn't really want to do it over the phone... then it seemed like it was too late."

"Well it's a good thing you didn't run into them at the store or anything!" Brittany exclaimed. She softened. "You have to tell them at some point, S."

"I know..."

Brittany examined Santana's sheepish expression. "Look, I'm not going to make you do it today if you don't want to. But I mean... wouldn't it be better to drop the M bomb on them now, rather than waiting until..." Brittany glanced over her shoulder to make sure they were alone, "there's a B bomb to go with it?" she whispered.

Santana sat forward, leaning with her elbows against the table. She played with one of the ribbons around the plate of cookies for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. That would definitely be better."

"So let's go," Brittany said cheerfully, nodding towards the hallway. "C'mon. It'll be a short visit and then we'll come home and make a fire and snuggle on the couch before my dad's annual reading of _A Christmas Carol_."

* * *

><p>"We're keeping this short, right?" Santana said as they rang the bell, placing her hand on Brittany's back. Her other hand was clenched inside her coat pocket in what she hoped was the only indicator of her nervousness.<p>

Brittany nodded and held the cookies up a little higher. "Breathe, sweetie," she whispered.

Santana sucked in a breath of icy air as the door swung open.

"Santana!" Antonio said with pleasant surprise as he opened the door. "And Brittany! What a wonderful surprise," he smiled. "Dolores!" he called behind him. "We have visitors!"

"Whaaat?" Dolores' shrill voice wound its way to the front door.

"Santana and Brittany!" Antonio explained. "They brought us cookies."

Dolores emerged from the hallway and paused, taking in the sight of the two girls on her doorstep. Her wrinkles had deepened and she looked fatigued, with a few streaks of silver running through her hair that hadn't been there when Santana had run into her in the grocery store a year before. Although Dolores looked older, her posture was stiff and commanding as ever.

"Well - invite them in. It's cold outside," Dolores instructed.

Santana and Brittany stepped inside and took off their coats, hanging them by the door as they looked around. Santana hadn't been in her parents' house for a few years. It smelled the same, that home smell that could never be replicated in another place; even with the same dusty potpourri, laundry detergents, spices and cleaning fluids, nowhere else would smell like the house she had grown up in.

Surveying the living room, Santana saw not much had changed. There was a new afghan on the sofa and a new picture of Santana holding her law school diploma on the mantle, but other than that, everything was the same. Home was _always _the same.

Brittany smiled and handed the cookies to Antonio.

"Thank you," he muttered. "I'll put these in the kitchen," he offered, edging toward the hallway.

"Hi Mom," Santana said, hesitantly approaching her mother, offering her a rare hug. As she lifted her arms, her mother's gaze fell on the ring around Santana's neck. It was unmistakable; she had seen it. Their hug was stiff with pretense, but Santana was glad she could give her mother that, at least.

When Antonio returned, he grinned in earnest while Dolores stood still with her hands on her hips, appraising Brittany and Santana. "Why don't we all have a glass of egg nog," he offered. "I picked some up this afternoon."

They walked into the kitchen, sitting around the table.

"So… Brittany," Antonio said as he set down four glasses. "How are you?"

Santana relaxed a little, flashing her father a tiny, relieved smile.

"I'm good," Brittany chirped. "Exams were really stressful, but they're done. Only two semesters to go."

Dolores frowned. "What are you studying?"

"She's in nursing school, Mom," Santana stepped in, her tone growing frustrated. "I told you that a few times. Remember?"

"Hm. Oh yes, you did mention that," Dolores' face was blank, though there was a stressed tightness around her eyes.

"Would anyone like rum in theirs?" Antonio asked, trying to diffuse the tension.

"No thanks," Santana replied quickly.

They had inseminated ten days prior and didn't know if Brittany was pregnant yet. They were still operating under the 'act as though you're pregnant until you know you're not' policy. Santana had decided not to drink in solidarity with Brittany; two weeks a month without a drink wasn't a big deal at all.

"Yeah, no thanks," Brittany agreed.

"So how is school, Brittany?" Antonio asked, filling their glasses.

"It's good," Brittany smiled again. She was especially quiet around the Lopezes, knowing Santana needed to feel like she was directing the conversation to ease her anxiety.

"She's in the advanced program for people who already have lots of credits in related subjects. She worked in sports medicine for a while."

"I remember that," Antonio said.

"How's the office?" Santana asked her mother, changing the subject. Discussing Brittany with her parents in Brittany's presence felt like playing with fire. One word from Dolores and Santana could potentially burst into tears or bolt.

Dolores, who had worked as a hospital administrator since Santana was little, launched into a tirade about the hassles of new health insurance filing policies while Antonio nodded in agreement. As they were chatting, Santana intentionally drew her hand up to her necklace, toying with the ring. She had purposely worn a shirt that wouldn't cover it up. Without her coat to cover it, her engagement ring was in plain sight. Santana caught her mom eyeing it apprehensively as she expounded upon the idiocy of Blue Shield representatives.

"How is life in Columbus?" Antonio asked, his warm tone in stark contrast to Dolores' piqued annoyance.

"It's great," Santana smiled. She tugged on the ring even harder, wanting her parents to acknowledge it.

"Do you ever get to see Carlos?" Antonio asked.

Santana prayed Brittany wouldn't make an unfortunate comment. "Yeah, we see him all the time," she supplied. She saw Brittany bite her lip in amusement.

"How is he? Is he seeing anyone?" Dolores asked.

"I'm not sure," Santana lied. "He seems awfully busy with work."

"Well, I hope he finds a nice girl and gets married soon," Dolores sighed.

Brittany nudged Santana with her knee under the table. Santana knew now was the time. She steeled herself for the blowup she was certain would come, gripping Brittany's hand at her side under the table.

"Well… _I'm_ getting married soon," Santana said. "We're engaged." She squeezed Brittany's hand, trying to sound as confident as she could. "As soon as the marriage equality bill passes, we're tying the knot."

"You know what I heard?" Dolores said, turning toward Antonio. "I heard this year the ballet isn't doing their usual production of the Nutcracker. They're doing something about an enchanted toyshop. Such nonsense! The Nutcracker is a tradition."

"Mom, did you hear what I said?"

"I heard. How is your job, Santana?" Dolores demanded. Her face was hard, warning Santana not to continue talking about her engagement.

Santana decided they had stayed long enough. She had been prepared for a blowup, but being ignored was almost worse. Every time she saw her mother she was reminded of why she avoided her; she was selfish, mean, and passive-aggressive. Santana wasn't about to expose her possibly-pregnant fiancée to any more of her mother's bigotry or coldness.

"My job's fine," Santana said, setting down her glass and moving to stand. "Look, we just came to bring you some cookies and say Merry Christmas and tell you our big news. I'm sorry you can't be happy for us, but I guess I expected as much. I hope you have fun at the family Christmas party tomorrow."

"Well," Dolores said, stopping a moment to moisten her lips. "Merry Christmas to you, too, Santana."

Santana reached for her purse, several possible retorts stuck in her throat under her mother's stare. As if understanding, Brittany took her hand and squeezed it, guiding her towards the door.

Antonio followed them out to the car, holding back a few steps as they made their way down the icy walk.

Antonio cleared his throat and lifted his chin as he tried to get her attention. "Santana," he finally called.

Santana looked up, pausing before closing the passenger side door after Brittany. She strode over to him, unsure what he was going to say. His eyes fell on the ring around her neck, barely visible between the flaps of her coat. He looked back into her eyes for a moment before extending his arms to her, smiling as he said, "Merry Christmas."

Santana stepped forward and hugged him, turning her head to the side with a girlish smile. Before he pulled away, Antonio murmured, "Congratulations, pumpkin."

He stepped back, giving her a nod and knowing smile before turning back towards the house where Dolores was watching them from the window with beady, critical eyes. Santana turned back to the car, meeting Brittany's smile through the frosted window. With a wide grin, Santana climbed in the driver's seat.

"Not so bad, huh?" Brittany said as Santana started the car.

"Not so bad," Santana agreed, shaking her head. She put the car in gear but then stopped, putting it back in park. She leaned forward against the steering wheel and started to cry.

"Aw, Santana," Brittany cooed.

"My dad," Santana choked. "He's… he's actually happy for me."

Brittany leaned over the console and rested her head on Santana's back, wrapping her arms around Santana's waist. She held her like that for minute before Santana sniffled and straightened up.

"Thank you," Santana mumbled.

"For what?" Brittany asked, settling back into her seat.

"For making me do that," Santana answered, putting the car into gear and pulling away from her parents' home.

* * *

><p>Several days later, the Pierces threw their annual Christmas Eve party. Well, it wasn't a party so much as a marathon celebration of all the quirk that was the Pierce family. As if Brittany, Vickie, Gordon and Hayley weren't entertaining enough, Santana never tired of watching the antics of crazy Aunt Millie, Uncle Dan, cousin Alex, Great-Aunt Lois, and Grandpa Wilbourne. Gordon still required a walker to get around most of the time, but he was leaps and bounds ahead of where he had been the year before. At the moment they were all crowded around the piano, singing painfully out of tune but with an exuberance that brought extra holiday spirit to the already festive house. Santana and Brittany were sitting on the couch stringing popcorn and cranberries, the juice staining their fingers red.<p>

"Do you guys want champagne?" Hayley offered over the din. She looked older these days; people were always surprised to hear Brittany and Hayley were seven years apart. She had the same blonde hair and blue eyes Brittany had, yet she was much more serious, a certain business sleekness distinguishing her from her big sister. Her eyes didn't laugh and her smile was never as bright, but she was very pretty.

She held two champagne glasses up towards them, eyebrows raised in offering.

Santana felt a zing of anxiety and glanced at Brittany, resting the string of popcorn in her lap. How were they going to make it seem totally normal for them to not drink at a Christmas party?

"Oh, no thanks," Brittany said cheerfully, nodding towards her cup on the coffee table. "I'm fine with sparkling cider."

Hayley shot her a questioning look.

"We're doing this... cleansing thing," Santana offered.

"A liver cleanse," Brittany jumped in.

"It was her idea," Santana added, pointing an accusatory finger at Brittany. "One of her classmates is into holistic health shit."

"Totally," Brittany played along.

"I drew the line at fresh wheatgrass juice though," Santana said, swiping her hand through the air. "I don't ingest anything that smells like a lawnmower." She rolled her eyes for effect.

"Good call," said Hayley, still looking skeptical. Nevertheless, she refilled their cider cups, setting them back down on the table. "It's good to have you guys back."

Once they had finished stringing popcorn, they sat on the couch and listened to the extended Pierce family train wreck their way through _Deck the Halls_, _Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer_, and _O Christmas Tree_.

"Santana, come sing with us!" Aunt Millie called, her bracelets jangling as she beckoned Santana over.

"Oh no, I couldn't," Santana said, waving her hand bashfully.

"Aw, yes you can, S," Brittany encouraged, nudging her up towards the piano. "She's got a beautiful voice," she informed her relatives.

"That's more than the rest of us can say!" laughed Uncle Dan.

The other Pierces laughed with him, raising their glasses in agreement and beckoning Santana toward the piano. Santana made a show of grumbling, but she couldn't hide her smile as she hoisting herself up from the cushions.

"What'll it be, Santana? _Jingle Bells_ or _Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas_?"

"_Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas_," Santana decided. "And I'm not going to sing alone. You guys have to sing with me," she grinned.

Uncle Dan played the opening chord and Santana looked back at Brittany, who was still sitting on the couch. She gestured for Brittany to come stand next to her and sing. Brittany grinned and held up a finger, pointing toward the bathroom as she got up, indicating she'd be right back.

When the song ended, Santana glanced back toward the hallway and saw Brittany leaning against the doorframe, beaming at the people clustered around the piano. Santana motioned for her to come sing with them - they were moving on to _Silent Night_, which was sure to be an ironic performance given that most of the Pierces were tone-deaf. Brittany shook her head and her smile grew wider as she beckoned for Santana to leave the revelry and join her in the hallway.

Santana set her glass on a small table and walked over, tucking her hair behind her ears as she leaned toward Brittany so she could hear what she had to say. They had hardly had a moment to themselves over the past few days; Vickie had kept them busy decorating, cooking, wrapping, shopping and eating. Brittany gestured up with her finger, indicating the mistletoe above them and stealing a kiss. In the past year Santana had grown comfortable with kissing Brittany - briefly - in Vickie and Gordon's presence.

Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana's neck and smiled. "I was going to wait another day to tell you, but I just can't," she whispered into Santana's ear.

"Tell me what, B?"

"I'm three days late," Brittany whispered.

Santana's whole body quickened. "You are?" She pulled back to look in Brittany's eyes with delight.

Brittany nodded and Santana took her by the elbow, walking down the hall and out of earshot from Brittany's family.

"Oh my god, B!" Santana whispered in excitement. "Do you want to take a test?"

"I don't know, should we?" Brittany asked with a hesitant smile. "It's Christmas Eve… I don't want to spoil it."

"Do you feel different?"

"I'm kind of spacey… and—my boobs hurt."

"You should have told me sooner!" Santana exclaimed with an amazed smile, holding her hands up, fingers splayed.

"I didn't want to get our hopes up. But I really think… I really think I _am_." Brittany grinned, bringing her fists up to rest under her chin.

"Oh my god, now we _have_ to a take a test," Santana insisted, dipping at the knees.

"But I didn't bring one with me…"

"We'll go get one," Santana decided.

"On Christmas Eve?"

"They have them at the gas station half a mile away, and it's the only place open on Christmas Eve. C'mon, get your coat!"

Santana tried as hard as she could to hide her goofy, giddy smile as they quietly got their purses and coats. She avoided looking into the living room as they slipped out the door, just in case anyone saw them leaving and shot them a questioning look. They closed the door and stepped into the soft, snowy twilight, giggling as if they were off to play a practical joke on the neighbors, rather than determine their future.

Santana put her hand on the small of Brittany's back as they stepped over icy patches on the walkway to the car. "Careful," she guarded, "I don't want you to slip."

Brittany reached across for Santana's other hand, smiling at her chivalry. When they reached the car, Santana opened Brittany's door for her. Brittany smiled and allowed Santana to tuck her carefully inside.

Santana slid into the driver's seat and said, "This could be the best Christmas present I've ever gotten."

"Me too," Brittany said with a playful bounce of her shoulders.

Santana started the car and reached over, sliding her hand between the open flaps of Brittany's coat and placing her palm flat on Brittany's stomach. Brittany's grin grew wider and she laced her fingers through Santana's, squeezing them as Santana pulled away from the curb.

Santana tried to drive slowly – she didn't want to skid on the ice with her precious cargo in the passenger's seat. But at the same time, she was so excited that the half-mile drive to the gas station seemed impossibly far.

"Do you want to go in together?" Santana asked, nodding towards the building as she pulled up to the gas station and shut off the engine.

"Of course!" Brittany said. "Every step of the way together, remember?"

"Right. Of course."

They entered the small convenience store, weathered bells clanging against the glass door announcing their arrival. They welcomed the change in temperature the store provided. Brittany looked around, trying to figure out where the pregnancy tests would be shelved.

Santana, on the other hand, knew precisely where they were: behind the cashier. Which is precisely why she stopped dead in her tracks, frozen in horror. The man sitting on a stool behind the cash register wore a puffy orange vest, a knitted cap, and faded, grease-stained jeans. His head was bent as he tapped the keyboard of his phone, a five-o'clock shadow visible on his jaw.

Finn Hudson.

For a moment Santana considered bolting. But she knew they had no other options for purchasing a test if they wanted to find out if Brittany was pregnant tonight. She wished more than anything that the tests had been shelved in the back of the store where she could pocket one and walk out without facing the unexpected blast-from-the-past that stood between her and the confirmation she was about to embark on the intrepid journey of motherhood.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Santana mumbled under her breath.

"What?" Brittany chirped, grin still in place. She followed Santana's gaze.

At that precise moment, Finn looked up and his familiar expression of confusion washed over his face before he smiled his usual, dopey smile.

"Whoa. Uh, hi guys," Finn said. "Merry, uh… Merry Christmas!"

"Yeah, whoa! Merry Christmas to you!" Brittany said, smiling in earnest as she walked towards the counter. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here," Finn said, eyes darting back and forth, as if to say, _obviously_. "How are you?"

"We're good," Brittany said. "Living in Columbus."

"Are you still…?"

"Lesbians? Yes," Santana snipped.

"And engaged." Brittany added, patting Santana's arm to calm her.

"Aw, congrats, guys," Finn said, nodding a bit.

"How are you?" Brittany asked.

"I'm fine," Finn shrugged. "Just, you know, working..."

Santana was about to make a snide remark about Finn working in a gas station on Christmas Eve, but then decided it was a little sad and she probably shouldn't make fun of him. She wasn't seventeen anymore and it might be bad karma for their pregnancy test or something. Five seconds of silence passed as Brittany and Finn looked back and forth between each other and Santana.

"So... what are you doing here?" Finn asked.

"Just picking up a little something for our Christmas party," Brittany smiled, nodding toward the shelves behind him.

"What can I get you?" Finn said with a lopsided smile, noticing their empty hands and their gazes directed at the shelves behind him.

"Um…" Santana pursed her lips to hide an embarrassed smile as she stepped backwards, not sure if she should laugh or hide her face.

Brittany put her hand on Santana's elbow and said. "Can we get a ClearBlue please?"

Finn looked back and forth between their faces with one eyebrow raised. "Am I being Punk'd or something?"

"Nope," Santana muttered, eyes darting around the room in a frantic effort to avoid looking at Finn. "Just an awkward Christmas Eve pregnancy test shopping trip..."

"So… which one of you…?"

Santana shot him an appalled glare and he stopped abruptly.

"It's for our friend," Brittany said, eying Santana's expression. "Our maybe-pregnant friend Sally."

Finn wasn't the most astute person in the world, but Santana could tell he wasn't buying Brittany's lie. She put her hand to her face. "Look, Finn, you can't tell anyone, okay?" she said, standing up taller. "It's not… _public_ information that we're trying. Yet."

Finn looked stunned, suddenly understanding this shopping trip was part of something intentional. He blushed.

"Oh, uh— sure. No problem." He stood and took the test off the shelf behind him. "Anything else?"

Wanting to get out of there as soon as possible, Santana tossed a pack of gum onto the counter and opened her purse, taking out her wallet. "That's all."

Finn rang up the test and the gum. "That'll be thirty-two seventy," he declared.

Santana pulled out her debit card and ran it through the machine.

"So have you talked to anyone from McKinley lately?" Brittany asked, cheerful and eager to fill the silence.

"Not really," Finn shrugged. "Kurt, of course."

"How is he?" Brittany smiled, tilting her head.

Santana punched her PIN into the keypad, glancing sideways at Brittany.

"He's good," Finn nodded. As always, Finn was a man of few words.

"What's he doing?" Brittany asked.

"Just, ya know, being fabulous," Finn said. "He moves all over the place. New York, L.A. He followed some guy to London for a year. Now he's in Cleveland working as a personal assistant."

"Cool," Brittany nodded. "I bet he's good at that."

Silence set in as their receipt printed and Finn tore it off, handing it to Santana. She stuffed it in her coat pocket, snatched the test and the gum off the counter and grabbed Brittany's hand.

"Bye, Finn," Santana snipped, heading out the door.

"Merry Christmas!" Brittany chirped as Santana pulled her out of the store.

"Merry Christmas," Finn echoed as the bells on the door clanged behind them.

They walked the few steps to the car and got in, shivering at the drastic change in temperature.

"Sweet Jesus, that was awkward," Santana grumbled, slamming her door closed perhaps more forcefully than necessary.

"Only because Finn's awkward," Brittany shrugged. "He probably doesn't know very much about lezbaby-making."

Santana put her keys in the ignition and paused. She turned her torso a few inches toward Brittany. "Was I a total bitch?" she asked, glancing through the store window at the back of Finn's head.

"Well..." Brittany dodged, following her gaze. "I think you were stressed out because you didn't expect to see him. Plus, you know, it's normal to slip back into acting the way you always did with him."

Santana bit her lip. "Should I go back in and say something?"

"If you want. But tonight's not about Finn," Brittany winked.

Santana glanced back at Finn again, but then decided she wasn't up to the task of acquainting her high school classmate with the matured, friendlier version of herself. "Yeah, I kind of just want know if we're officially going to be mommies."

"So let's go find out," Brittany smiled, nodding in the direction of her parents' house.

Santana grinned, the giddy anticipation returning to her belly. "Let's go find out," she echoed.

When they returned to the Pierce's, the party was still in full swing. Holding hands and trying to draw as little attention to themselves as possible, they tiptoed toward the bathroom.

"Girls!" Vickie called after them. "Come back in here!"

Santana's eyes went wide for a moment. She thought for sure they were busted. She gripped the test in her pocket as she spun around.

They poked their heads in the living room and Gordon raised his glass of sparkling apple juice. "A toast," he began, his words still a bit slurred from his stroke. "To our beautiful Brittany and her fiancée. May they have many happy surprises to come."

"To Brittany and her fiancée," the room echoed.

The other Pierces took a sip and beamed. Aunt Millie clapped a few times and bounced up and down in excitement.

Vickie added to the toast, "Santana, we've considered you part of the family for years—but this is the first Christmas it's official. So welcome to the Pierce family!"

Santana felt heat creep up her cheeks as she gripped the test in her pocket.

"Um, thanks," she stuttered. "I'm really…" she turned to Brittany with a secretive smile, "_really_ happy to be here."

The Pierces looked around for a moment, smiling until it became clear that the toast was over. Grandpa Wilbourne requested a rendition of _O Christmas Tree_ in the original German text, and Brittany and Santana took the opportunity to slip down the hallway into the guest bathroom.

"Why do I feel like we're teenagers sneaking into the bathroom to make out?" Santana grinned.

Brittany chuckled. "Seriously. Okay, let's do this. Good thing I have to pee again," she said as she slipped off her coat, hanging it on the hand towel rack. Santana pulled the test out of her coat pocket, opening it as Brittany unbuttoned her pants.

"Wait," Santana said, stilling Brittany's hands as she crouched down, lifting Brittany's shirt and placing three quick pecks on Brittany's stomach as Brittany smiled down at her. Brittany finished unzipping her pants as Santana stood and pulled the test out of the box. Brittany pushed her pants and underwear down her hips and gasped.

Santana glanced over at her. Brittany's gaze was directed at her underwear, where a dark red smear glared up at her. The both froze for a moment before Brittany let out a dejected sigh. Santana clicked her tongue in sympathetic disappointment.

Brittany sat down and put her face in her hands. "I really thought I was…" she mourned. "Really, I did." She sat for a moment, the room completely still around them.

"It's okay, B," Santana murmured, setting the test on the counter. She crouched next to Brittany, putting her hand on Brittany's arm. She had felt her heart sink too, but right now her job was to buoy Brittany so they could walk back out into the living room as if their Christmas wishes hadn't just been dashed. "I would have thought I was pregnant too."

Brittany started to sniffle. "I shouldn't have said anything!" she whimpered.

"No, no, sweetie," Santana assured, tugging on Brittany's arm. "I'm glad this happened together. I mean, of course I wish we'd taken the test and gotten a positive… but we're doing this together. So let's take every step together."

Brittany buried her face deeper in her hands. "I ruined Christmas."

"No you didn't," Santana argued. "If this were something either of us could control, you'd be pregnant by now. I know that." Brittany didn't respond. "Don't you know that?" Santana asked gently.

After a moment Brittany sighed, lifting her face out of her hands and nodding. She stared at the tile on the wall in front of her, seemingly lost. Santana could hear the piano and raucous laughter drifting from the living room.

"I can't go back out there right now," Brittany whispered.

Santana nodded, looking at Brittany as she continued to study the tiles on the opposite wall. "Okay." A few moments passed before she said. "I'll tell them you're tired and went to bed early."

Brittany shot Santana a doubtful look. "They're not going to buy that on Christmas Eve."

"Well… I'll say we have some last minute gifts to wrap. Then we can go in your room for a little while and regroup."

Brittany looked at the floor and nodded. "Okay."

* * *

><p>On Christmas morning, Santana and Brittany sat next to each other on the floor by the tree. Hayley, Vickie, Gordon, Aunt Millie, Uncle Dan, cousin Alex, Great-Aunt Lois, and Grandpa Wilbourne were seated around the living room nursing coffee and cocoa and smiling.<p>

"There's something so nice about doing Christmas the same way every year, isn't there?" Uncle Dan said as Hayley passed out the gifts from under the tree.

"There is," agreed Vickie, "I'm always amazed by how much has changed in just twelve months." She gave Gordon a loving look, recalling the year before when he had been confined to a wheelchair.

"I'm always struck by how much Alex has grown. Now that he's thirteen, it really feels like our first Christmas without kids around," Uncle Dan said.

"I remember our first Christmas with Brittany," Vickie said, blowing on her coffee. "She was about nine months old."

"We spoiled her rotten with gifts that year!" Gordon chuckled. "She was more amused by us tearing the wrapping paper, but we like to think she liked her gifts too."

Santana looked at Brittany with a smile, trying to imagine her as an infant. But Brittany wasn't smiling; her eyes were sad.

"I'm gonna get some coffee," Brittany said, getting up off the floor.

"I thought you were doing a cleansing thing," Hayley challenged, handing a gift to grandpa Wilbourne.

Santana raised her eyebrow at Hayley as Brittany walked out of the room. "It's Christmas. We're taking the day off."

Brittany disappeared into the hallway and Great-Aunt Lois patted Santana's shoulder, handing her a package.

After a moment Santana joined Brittany in the kitchen. Brittany was standing at the sink, hands on the edge as she gazed out the window. Santana stood next to her and put her hand on Brittany's back.

"They're talking about babies and Christmas," Brittany mumbled.

Santana nodded in sympathy as she wrapped an arm around Brittany's waist.

They looked outside. It hadn't snowed in a few days, and the snow on the ground was dimpling and choppy in places, peppered with twigs and pine needles and dirt.

Santana rubbed Brittany's back for a moment, watching her take in the scene outside. A pallet of snow slid off a branch and Brittany sighed. Santana gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. "Come open your presents, love."

Brittany sighed. "I already know I didn't get what I wanted."

Santana dipped her head to the side with a sad smile as she tried to buoy Brittany. "Well, maybe Santa didn't have the right car seat for the sleigh and will be making a late delivery."

Brittany smiled and turned to her. "Yeah. That's gotta be it."


	61. Fever

**Chapter 61: Fever**

Chapter title and soundtrack: "Fever." Try the Beyoncé version from _The Fighting Temptations_.

* * *

><p>AN: Okay, so I wrote this chapter because I lost a bet. As a result, my friend got to prompt a chapter. There's no plot development, so if gratuitous sex isn't your thing, you can skip this one. Wait… _who_ isn't into gratuitous Brittana sex?

Thanks to terriblemuriel for all her encouragement and fine editing of this chapter. Also, to Emmas409, who proofs like a boss.

Edit: I found multiple typos in this chapter after posting, which are not Emmas409's fault. I promise never to make last minute edits after 2am again.

* * *

><p>Santana lay on the couch reading a magazine. She heard Brittany's keys in the door and smiled.<p>

"Hey baby," Santana called, not looking up.

"Hey," Brittany smiled, setting down her backpack. "How was your day?"

"Fine," Santana shrugged, tossing her magazine on the table. "Boring." She looked up at Brittany and saw she was wearing scrubs. Santana sat up. "You look official! I like it. You look _hot_ in your nurse's uniform."

"It's just for our lab," Brittany said, blushing.

"Oh, did that start today? How was it?"

"Pretty fun!" Brittany chirped. "We have people who come in and present symptoms and we treat them like real patients."

"I bet you're good at that. You always know what's wrong with me when I'm sick. And how to make me feel better."

"All you ever need are kisses and soup," Brittany grinned.

"I hope that's not the approach they're teaching you in school," Santana said, eyes wide over her smile.

"No, I think I'd get fired for kissing patients."

Santana scanned up and down Brittany's body for a split second before forcing out a cough. "I'm not feeling too good today," she mumbled.

"What's wrong?" Brittany asked, walking over to the couch.

"I've got a tickle in my throat and I feel all achy. Do I feel warm to you?"

Brittany leaned forward and put her hand on Santana's forehead, frowning in concern. "Not really."

"I really don't feel good… My tummy hurts."

"Did you eat something?"

"I think I might be having heart palpitations. Is my pulse too fast?"

Brittany put two fingers on Santana's neck, frowning in concern for a split second before realization flickered across her face in a smile. "Santana..." she giggled.

Santana continued her ploy. "I'm pretty sure my blood pressure is skyrocketing and there's a good chance I'm going to have an aneurysm. And does this mole look like cancer to you?"

"It's the same cute mole you've had your whole life," Brittany said, resting her hands on her knees as she kissed Santana's shoulder.

"No, Nurse Pierce, I'm really, horribly sick." Santana forced out two coughs.

"Hmm…" Brittany frowned. "Now that you mention it, your symptoms sound like mono. You should go to bed and get some rest."

"But I've already had mono!" Santana whined. "You can't get it more than once!"

"Maybe this is a variant strain of it," Brittany shrugged.

"I'm sure it's the swine flu. Or the bird flu. Some kind of exotic animal flu. I really need a nurse to take care of me," Santana pleaded with Brittany, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Oh yeah?" Brittany asked, raising her eyebrows.

"You wouldn't want me to perish without a little TLC, would you, Nurse Pierce?"

"Of course not," Brittany smirked. "I'll take care of you."

Santana let out a dramatic groan and threw herself back on to the couch. "I'm dying!"

Brittany's voice became airy and concerned. "This mysterious illness seems so sudden! I've never seen anything like it!" she lilted. "Your eyes are dilated… your breathing is a little fast, your pulse is picking up… apparently you can't stand..." Brittany put her hand on Santana's forehead and gasped, "you're burning up! You need to take off all your clothes right away so I can examine you."

"Can you take them off for me? I'm so weak..." Santana placed her arm over her eyes and Brittany couldn't help but smirk at her overacting.

"Aw, sure sweetheart," Brittany cooed, "I'm sorry you don't feel well."

"Meeee toooo," Santana groaned.

"I'll take care of you until you're _all_ better," Brittany said with a wink.

Brittany unbuttoned Santana's shirt, gently sliding her arms out of it, and taking the opportunity to stroke Santana's sensitive wrists and inner arms with her fingertips.

"You're a good nurse, Nurse Pierce," Santana said hoarsely.

"We'll see," Brittany said. "I need to help you feel better first. _Then_ we'll see if I'm a good nurse." She ran her hand under Santana's back, unclasping her bra, sliding it off of Santana's shoulders, and laying it on the floor beside them.

"They used to detect heart palpitations with fingertips, you know. Fingertips have lots of nerve-endings, so they can feel very tiny movements." She traced the tips of her fingers along Santana's cheek, trailing them down her neck and across her collarbone, to settle in the valley between her breasts. She tapped her fingers right above Santana's heart gently.

"Whatever you think is necessary, Nurse Pierce. I trust you." Santana shivered at Brittany's touch, a trail of raised goose bumps followed in the wake of Brittany's fingers.

"But do you know what has even more nerve endings than fingertips?"

"What?" Santana said, trying not to smirk.

"Lips," Brittany purred, as she leaned over Santana and brushed their lips together, pulling away before Santana could kiss her back.

"You should use your best diagnostic skills. I want you to find out what's wrong with me so you can fix it."

Brittany's lips followed the trail of goose bumps her fingertips had set, barely brushing skin until she pressed them right above Santana's breast and held them there for a minute.

"Do you feel anything?" Santana asked.

Brittany lifted her head and met Santana's eyes. The look they shared was both passionate and playful. "Well, it seems fine, but let me keep checking."

"Yes, keep checking," Santana moaned, as she closed her eyes with a grin. She couldn't believe that she hadn't thought of this before.

Brittany pressed her lips over Santana's heart and hummed. "Hm, that's interesting. Your pulse is getting faster."

"Does that mean I'm having a heart attack?" Santana whispered. Brittany's lips were so close to Santana's already hardened nipple that she couldn't help but arch her chest up into Brittany, encouraging her to take it into her mouth.

"I need to keep checking. Sometimes moisture detects the heartbeat better," Brittany teased, kissing the underside of Santana's breast, and running her tongue between her lips and over the sensitive skin.

"Yes," Santana murmured, "keep checking." Her hands found Brittany's hair and she sank her fingers into it, and as she pulled her by her silken strands, Brittany kissed her way up Santana's breast and took Santana's nipple between her lips.

"Yes check there!" Santana gasped.

Brittany ran her tongue around the nipple and as Santana arched up into her mouth, Brittany's hands traced up Santana's sides and she began to suck. After a few moments Santana spoke again in a raspy whisper. "Could you check the other one too?"

Brittany moved her mouth to Santana's other nipple, playing with the first between her fingers. Santana started to pant as Brittany hummed around it.

"These results are very confusing," Brittany declared, eyebrow raised as she lifted her head.

"What is it?"

"Your heartbeat is steady, but it just keeps picking up," Brittany said as seriously as she could.

"I hope I'm not dying!" Santana groaned, eyes widening in mock fear.

"I don't think so, but I need to keep checking," Brittany said with a grin.

"Check over here again," Santana said, stilling Brittany's fingers around her nipple and pushing her breasts into Brittany's face. Brittany took the nipple back in her mouth and bit down gently.

"Oh, Nurse!" Santana moaned, feeling herself grow wet. Her hips rose of their own accord to meet Brittany as she settled between them.

"Are you still feeling warm?" Brittany asked, lifting her head, a concerned expression on her face.

"Very warm," Santana pouted. She looked away in mock embarrassment for a moment. "Nurse Pierce, is it good or bad that your examination is making me wet?"

"It's ok, Santana," Brittany hushed. "If you're sick you're probably just extra sensitive. Let me check your temperature again." She put her hand on Santana's forehead. "Do you know how I can tell if someone has a fever?"

"Thermometer?" Santana asked.

"If the warmth of their skin kind of absorbs into my hand, they're okay. But if it keeps radiating heat, they probably have a fever."

"I'm radiating heat. I can feel it _everywhere_." Santana writhed under Brittany, breasts pushing into her face, hips grinding against Brittany's stomach. Her hands remained twined in Brittany's hair tugging her head back down to lavish attention on Santana's breasts. Unbidden, a moan escaped Brittany.

"Maybe I should check somewhere else..." Brittany purred just before taking another swipe at Santana's tight nipple with her tongue. She reached down and cupped Santana through her pants, her touch eliciting moans from both women.

"Nurse Pierce!" Santana exclaimed, pressing into Brittany's hand. "Is _that_ how you tell if I have a fever?"

"Yes," Brittany smirked. "And Santana, I'm afraid you definitely have a fever," she purred into Santana's ear. Her breath ghosted against Santana's neck as she moved her cupped hand against the seam of Santana's jeans, her palm putting pressure right where Santana needed it.

"I knew it," Santana muttered, trying to sound forlorn. She began grinding her center against Brittany's palm, the friction making it harder to keep up the façade. Santana's teeth gripped her bottom lip as she tried to focus on the game.

"I've never felt anyone so warm," Brittany purred again, between nips along Santana's neck. She soothed each nip with a kiss and swipe of her hot tongue.

"Do you think you can make me better, Nurse? I feel so hot. And wet," Santana whispered, her words caressing Brittany's ear as she returned Brittany's neck kisses.

"We need to cool you off right now," Brittany declared sitting up. "You should take off your pants."

"I'm too weak to take off my pants," Santana all but begged.

With haste not befitting a nurse in training, Brittany unbuttoned Santana's pants and yanked them down her legs, throwing them over the end of the couch. Their game had taken a turn.

"I need to figure out how high your temperature is to see if I need to call the doctor in," Brittany smirked as she settled back on top of Santana, replacing her hand against Santana's soaking, panty-clad center.

"You don't need to call the doctor!" Santana exclaimed. She moaned and undulated as Brittany settled back on top of her.

"You're probably right," Brittany hummed. "He wouldn't know what to do."

"I'm so glad you're here, Nurse. These symptoms are very concerning… fever, rapid heartbeat, sensitive skin… hard nipples and wetness..." Santana forgot her symptoms as Brittany's hand began grazing against her.

"And you're so weak," Brittany purred, lowering her mouth next to Santana's.

"I am _so_ weak," Santana moaned against her mouth.

"You just relax and let me examine you, ok?"

"Okay," Santana exhaled.

Brittany started kissing Santana gently, letting her lips slip against Santana's with little muscle or friction behind them. But their kisses quickly grew heated as Santana lifted her head to increase the pressure, pushing her tongue against Brittany's lips and taking small nips. Brittany's bottom lip plumped as Santana pulled it into her mouth and sucked.

Brittany drew her head away with a wet slurp. "I'm supposed to be examining you," she reminded Santana in her strictest voice. "You're interfering."

"Sorry, nurse," Santana pouted, her kiss-swollen lip extended. She met Brittany's stern glare with dark, half-lidded eyes.

"I hope I don't have to get authoritative with you," Brittany warned.

The idea of Brittany getting _authoritative_ made Santana moan and press her chest up into Brittany, turning her head to expose her neck to Brittany's mouth. Her nipples perked as they rubbed against the rough material of Brittany's scrubs. Brittany nipped and sucked at Santana's neck.

"I love it when you kiss my neck, Nurse Pierce," Santana shivered.

"I think you need a sponge bath, Santana."

"I think so too," Santana hummed, wrapping her arms around Brittany's back and pulling her back down to grind their bodies together.

Brittany kissed Santana's neck for a moment more before lifting herself up, adjusting her scrubs. "I'll be right back. While I'm gone you should take off your underwear so I can do a more complete bathing."

Santana's voice was weak in response, "Yes, nurse."

The second Brittany left the room, Santana stripped out of her soaked panties and lay back down on the couch, running her hand up and down her stomach.

Brittany came back into the living room in just her scrub top and underwear with a washcloth in her hand. "I spilled water all over my pants and had to take them off," she explained with grin.

"That's okay," Santana grinned back. She moved her hands over her own breasts, pinching her nipples and smiling wickedly. She stretched out on the couch, opening her legs just slightly, pleased to see Brittany's eyes drawn to her glistening sex. "I'm still not feeling well, nurse."

"I'm here to make you feel better," Brittany cooed, kneeling next to the couch and dabbing the washcloth on Santana's neck. "Is that too cold?"

"No, it feels good," Santana hummed.

"Let me know if you want warmer or cooler," Brittany offered as she leaned over Santana, running the washcloth between Santana's breasts as she kissed her neck.

Santana purposefully stretched her body as Brittany moved the washcloth over her body, caressing it. She showed off, trying to get Brittany to move to all of her favorite spots; the crooks of her elbows, below her ears, her sides right below her ribcage, and just inside her hipbones. Santana lifted her head to kiss Brittany along her jaw and cheek, reaching up to pull Brittany down for a kiss.

"Shh, just let me take care of you," Brittany purred. "You're so weak, I don't want you to exhaust yourself."

"Yes, Nurse Pierce," Santana mumbled.

Brittany ran the washcloth down Santana's stomach, leaving a damp trail on her skin. She dragged it lower, cool against Santana's hot skin, making her shiver.

"Santana, you're shivering. I'm so worried," Brittany said. "We really need to bring your fever down."

"Please help me, Nurse Pierce." Santana writhed under Brittany's hand, her body aching for more of her touch.

"I'm not a doctor so I can't give you any medicine, but I can help you feel more comfortable. What's uncomfortable right now?"

"I'm just so hot. I'm wet between my legs and my heart is beating fast and I can't catch my breath," Santana moaned, rubbing her thighs together trying to alleviate the growing need she felt as Brittany traced the washcloth over her heated skin.

"Oh, sweetheart, you must be _miserable._" Brittany rose from her knees and lay down, crawling on top of Santana, nestling between her legs. "Tell me what makes it better, ok?" Brittany started kissing down Santana's neck, leaning into her, sliding down her body, running the washcloth over Santana's thigh.

"That feels good. That feels _really_ good," Santana murmured.

Brittany dragged the washcloth right over Santana's sex and her breathing became ragged. "Right there, Nurse Pierce!" she whined.

"Right here?" Brittany purred.

"Yes!" Santana clenched Brittany's hand with her thighs. "I'm so sensitive."

"Would rubbing it make it feel better?" Brittany asked, as she began rubbing the gentlest of circles. The washcloth was cool compared to Santana's hot, pulsing sex; its rough texture exacerbating Santana's already heightened sensitivity.

"I think it would," she husked.

"They didn't teach us this in nursing school, but I think I know what to do." Brittany pulled the washcloth away, draping it over Santana's thigh, replacing it with her hand and grazing Santana's sex with two fingers.

Santana exhaled and tilted her hips into Brittany's fingers. She moaned, opening her legs to Brittany's touch.

Brittany pressed into her just a bit. "You're burning up, Santana," she purred.

"And wet too," Santana mumbled.

"Do you want me to take care of that?" Brittany murmured.

Santana nodded furiously and Brittany began running her fingers through Santana's folds.

Santana shuddered, grazing her hand over her own breast as Brittany slid her now coated fingers up and down a few more times. "Santana… I think whatever you have is contagious…"

"Are you feeling feverish too?" Santana asked.

"I... I am. But I need to do my job. I can't stop working just because I feel a little funny."

"You should take off your clothes," Santana suggested. "It really helped me."

"I'm worried I'll get in trouble," Brittany whispered into Santana's neck. "It's my first day on the job."

"I won't tell," Santana whispered back, running her hands under Brittany's scrubs and cupping her breasts over her bra.

Brittany responded by shivering and kissing her, her tongue enthusiastic as it ran between her teeth and tangled with Santana's. Santana reached around Brittany and unsnapped Brittany's bra. Brittany grinned as she sat up, pulling off her scrub top and shrugging out of her bra before lying flush against Santana. The second they touched and Santana felt their soft skin press together, she moaned and ground her hips up into Brittany.

"I'm going to get in trouble for this!" Brittany panted. "They'll think I'm playing favorites."

"But I _am_ your favorite," Santana murmured, "And don't worry, I won't tell." She drew Brittany back in for a kiss, her tongue slipping deep into Brittany's mouth as if to prove she'd keep her word.

Brittany kept rocking on top of her, Santana lifting up to grind against her. They both began to sweat.

"I think we can get your fever to break, Santana," Brittany panted.

"Please, Nurse."

"It's probably going to get worse before it gets better, though. Just know I'm doing everything I can to help."

"I trust you," Santana said, rocking her hips up against Brittany's.

Brittany bent her head to nip at Santana's ear, her other hand palming Santana's breast.

Santana groaned as she reached between them to slide her fingers over Brittany's panties. Brittany flinched and exhaled.

"Oh god, Santana. I know you're sick and I'm supposed to be taking care of you, but that feels _so_ good."

Santana rocked up against Brittany once before pushing Brittany's panties aside and delving two fingers deep inside Brittany.

"Ah!" Brittany yelped. "Oh god, Santana! I can't take care of you if you do that!"

"Well, you're doing such a good job making me feel better, you should be rewarded. Being a nurse is hard work," Santana whispered in Brittany's ear as she pulled Brittany into her. Her fingers sank to the knuckle inside Brittany, finding that spot that Santana knew would make Brittany writhe and grip her tighter.

"I've definitely caught your fever, Santana," Brittany gasped, allowing Santana to take over.

Santana undulated under her, sucking on her ear and pressing up as Brittany trembled, clenching around Santana's fingers as she pumped. Brittany writhed, sensitive and ignited as Santana increased her speed. Santana ran her free hand around Brittany's back and up through her hair, tugging just a little. When her pumping became furious and Brittany's breath was ragged and halting against her neck, she pressed her thumb into Brittany's clit.

Brittany whimpered, pressing into Santana's hand.

"Come for me," Santana whispered, her breath hot against Brittany's ear.

Brittany shuddered and cried out, her forehead pressed against Santana's as she came. Santana smiled, feeling her fingers grow slicker as they were squeezed together in steady, insistent pulses.

"Fuck," Brittany exhaled, smiling. She panted for a minute, catching her breath before opening her eyes. "I was supposed to be taking care of _you_, you little sneak," she smirked.

"How am I a sneak?" Santana grinned.

"By pretending to be sick so I'd have to get my nurse on," Brittany giggled as she sat up on Santana's thigh.

"I love when you get your nurse on…" Santana murmured, dragging her fingers over Brittany's stomach as she felt Brittany's sex press against her leg.

"Oh, I know," Brittany said. She ran her hand over Santana's stomach, teasing over her mound and brushing her fingertips against Santana's wet folds. Santana shuddered.

"You're shivering," Brittany said, raising one eyebrow.

Santana pressed up into Brittany's hand. "I have a fever. Make me better, B."

"I will," Brittany promised, stroking more firmly into Santana and using her other hand to play with Santana's nipples. "I'll make you _all_ better, Santana."

Without any more pretense, Brittany slipped two fingers inside Santana and started rocking on top of her.

"Oh my god, yes…" Santana opened her legs wider so Brittany could settle in between. She thrust her hips against Brittany as they rocked. Brittany brought her mouth down on Santana's neck as she began to thrust in and out, her motions met by eager, jerking hips.

"You make me feel so good, B. Just a little harder..." Santana strained.

Brittany pumped in and out faster, feeling Santana's chest rise and fall beneath her.

Santana jolted after one particularly deep thrust. "Britt, right there!" she gasped.

"Here?" Brittany panted.

"Yes!"

Brittany pressed up into the spot that made Santana jerk over and over. Santana moaned and whimpered with each thrust, her head thrashing about, frustrated.

"I think I know what will break this fever," Brittany purred as she slid down Santana's torso. Her hair tickled Santana's breasts and stomach as she slid back on her knees and without prelude, took Santana's clit in her mouth.

"Oh god!" Santana panted as Brittany ran her tongue around her sensitive bud.

Santana began thrusting into Brittany's mouth and hand, moaning and gripping her hair. Her toes began to curl as she felt her orgasm climb up her legs. Brittany began to suck, running her tongue around Santana's clit and pumping her fingers in and out.

"There!" Santana cried.

Brittany pressed up into Santana with her fingers, increasing the suction with her mouth. Santana arched backwards, gripping the arm of the sofa behind her as she writhed, letting her orgasm overtake her.

Brittany continued with steady pulses of suction, trapped between Santana's thighs.

"Britt!" Santana yelped.

Brittany wrapped her arm around Santana's leg to hold it somewhat steady as she continued sucking and licking, watching Santana's face as she did.

It felt like forever, but was only a few seconds until Santana collapsed, spent.

Brittany continued working her with her mouth as Santana felt the aftershocks shoot through her body until finally, she couldn't take it any longer and lifted Brittany's head up.

"Stop, baby," Santana gasped, gripping Brittany's face in her hands. "Please, I can't take anymore!"

Brittany lifted her eyes to meet Santana's, and seeing the desperate look on Santana's face, she smiled. Drying arousal coated her lips and cheeks and she felt sticky with Santana's juices. As Santana came down, her eyes drifted closed for a moment. When she opened them, Brittany was still smiling at her.

"That was a nice way to come home," Brittany murmured.

"No kidding," Santana sighed. "Oh god, I love you, B…"

"I love you too, S."

"I love that look on your face, too," Santana murmured.

"What look?" Brittany grinned.

"When you're smiling like that after you made me come with your mouth. You're so proud of yourself… and _so_ beautiful." Santana lifted Brittany's chin and brought her up for a kiss. "And covered in my come," she smirked. She shifted under Brittany, finding the damp washcloth that had fallen from her thigh ages ago and wiped Brittany's face with it.

Brittany chuckled and bent to give Santana another wet kiss.

"I like making you come with my mouth. I've never seen anything like it."

"What do you mean?" Santana frowned.

"You just... transform," Brittany said, settling onto her chest. "Everything happens at once. You look happy and worried and loved and scared... Your body lets go and clenches at the same time and you make noises and wriggle around. It's like you're in another world where you're not so put together and planning all the time."

"You see all that?"

Brittany nodded. "It's beautiful."

"I'm not that articulate. I just know I feel like fire."

"You've always been my fire, S," Brittany sighed, smiling in contentment. "My only flame…"

Santana grinned, closing her eyes as she wrapped her arms around Brittany's torso. "Is my fever gone, Nurse Pierce?"

"I think it broke. But let me know if you need another sponge bath. These things have a way of coming back."

"I'm feeling much better. Thank you." Eyes still closed, her lips found Brittany's and they kissed before settling into each other with twin sighs.


	62. Somedays

**Chapter 62: Somedays**

Chapter title and soundtrack: "Somedays" by Regina Spektor.

* * *

><p>AN: I know this chapter is later than usual, but seeing the subject matter, it seems appropriate. I have to say that my fearless betas spent a good deal of their weekend working on this, and they should get at least half the credit. So give my team a shoutout: Mia, terriblemuriel, and Emmas409. Any mistakes are my own last-minute edits, not theirs.

As always, pull up the soundtrack and listen!

* * *

><p><strong>January<strong>

* * *

><p>"Okay, all set, baby?" Santana asked as she settled on her knees at the end of the bed.<p>

Brittany smiled and nodded.

"I remember what to do," Santana reassured.

After their Christmas disappointment, Brittany had suggested they hire a nurse to come assist them with an intra-cervical insemination in their home. Normally such an advanced procedure would be done in a clinic, but they were still resistant to the idea of making their family in a strictly medical way. The hands-on demonstration the nurse had given two days earlier had been awkward, but at least it was on their terms, in their home. The nurse seemed so matter-of-fact about everything. Brittany's body had been labeled with clinical terms: labia, birth canal, cervix, uterus. Plastic instruments had been brought in to assist with the process, further removing them from the ideal of creating life as naturally as possible. Santana couldn't recall ever taking notes with a paper and pencil when Brittany's pants were off, but the demonstration had served its purpose; they were serious about getting pregnant, and even though they were both reluctant to try something so technical, it reaffirmed how badly they wanted to start their family.

Brittany looked concerned as Santana immediately reached for the speculum. "Can we still have it be special?"

"Of course!" Santana said, setting the speculum down and shaking her head, ashamed she had forgotten. "Of course, Britt. I'm sorry. I'm just excited to show off everything I learned."

"It's okay. I just still want it to be about us."

Santana lay down next to Brittany and drew her close. She lifted Brittany's top and rested her hand against her stomach, closing her eyes. "I'm thinking about our baby growing happily in your tummy, warm and safe and knowing how loved he or she is."

"And I'm thinking about you being there with me," Brittany murmured, eyes drifting closed, "speaking Spanish to my tummy and taking naps with your hand right where it is now. And I'm thinking about us lying on this bed with our newborn between us, wrapped in blankets and making little baby noises while it sleeps."

Santana grinned, imagining where they might be in only nine short months. She opened her eyes, watching Brittany's eyelids flickering as she dreamed of their family.

"I love you, Britt," Santana whispered.

Brittany opened her eyes, calmness radiating from them. "I love you too, S. So much."

Santana leaned forward, pressing Brittany into her as she kissed her. She rolled on top of her, reminding herself she didn't have to be gentle for this part. They had found that the experience of insemination was much more relaxing for both of them if there was some element of pleasure in it. The research Santana did provided even more incentive; some studies showed higher conception rates for women who were aroused during insemination.

And she _did_ want Brittany to be turned on. Not only did she love and thoroughly enjoy Brittany's body, but she wanted Brittany to experience pregnancy – from start to finish – as beautifully and gracefully as possible. The more Santana thought about it, the more she agreed with Brittany that creating life was special and their actions should reflect who they were as a couple. They had always celebrated their love with their bodies; creating their family should be no different.

Santana ran her hands up and down Brittany's waist, feelings its curve, the soft skin warm under her fingers. Brittany rolled her hips against Santana's and Santana rocked back in response. She reached for the elastic of Brittany's panties and slid them down, rolling to the side to remove them, but never taking her mouth from Brittany's.

Brittany's hand reached to cup Santana through her pajamas. Santana exhaled against Brittany's cheek and rocked into her. Oh, how she wanted to just spend the night making love... but they had a task at hand. She inhaled and stilled Brittany's wrist, removing her mouth from Brittany's with a reluctant pop.

"Ready, baby?" she murmured.

Brittany hummed a confirmation, her head rolling to the side a bit as she gave Santana a lazy smile. Everything about Brittany was warm as she spread her legs.

Santana settled on her knees at the base of the bed. Brittany slid a pillow under her hips as Santana filled the long, thin cervical syringe with semen and laid it on a paper towel on the nightstand. She squeezed lube onto the speculum and then ran her slickened fingers through Brittany's folds, lubricating them with the excess. Before inserting the speculum, she leaned forward and placed three long kisses on Brittany's stomach.

She sat back, catching Brittany's eye to prepare her for the first step: inserting the speculum. Brittany nodded and took a deep breath and let it back out to relax her pelvic muscles. Once the speculum was inserted, Santana began to open it. Brittany adjusted her hips, trying to get comfortable, but the feeling of arousal quickly drained. Santana picked up the flashlight, crouching low to peer inside Brittany to find the cervical opening the nurse has spent so much time helping her locate.

After a few moments, Santana declared, "I see it." She reached for the syringe, inserting it and trying to press the tip through the tiny opening she could barely make out. Despite the flashlight, she couldn't really see what she was doing.

"I have to open it a little more," Santana said, frowning.

"Okay," Brittany responded. Her voice halted with concern as she tried to keep her hips still and relaxed. It wasn't quite working.

Santana clicked the device open wider and she could tell Brittany was trying not to wince.

"Sorry, baby," Santana apologized.

"It's okay," Brittany strained. "Do what you have to do."

Santana shone the flashlight inside and aimed the tip of the syringe at the opening in Brittany's cervix that she could see a bit better now. Over the past five months Santana had adapted to the process of insemination. She felt comfortable with how they had been going about the inseminations with just the syringe. In truth, this didn't feel special at all. It wasn't sensual or passionate. Sure, Santana could get Brittany in the mood beforehand, but once they were set up with the speculum and syringe, it was hard to feel intimate. She had hoped without the nurse it would feel less clinical, but it didn't. She was worried about the added complexity of the additional instruments and more precise insertion method. And of course, she didn't want to hurt Brittany. Gripping it securely, she pressed the tip of the syringe through the cervix. Brittany hissed.

"You okay?" Santana asked, pausing.

"Yeah, but please just do it, it's a little uncomfortable," Brittany pressed, trying not to cringe as she fidgeting with her hands at her sides. It was as close as Brittany would come to saying _'hurry the fuck up, that hurts.'_

"Okay, here we go."

Wasting no more time, Santana set down the flashlight and pressed the plunger of the syringe up, depositing the sperm inside Brittany. She withdrew the syringe and removed the speculum, watching as Brittany sighed in relief and closed her legs.

Santana wrapped the instruments in a towel and put them on the floor before lying next to Brittany. This was the part they loved most about inseminations; they would curl into each other, quiet and smiling, murmuring about all the things that could be. Yet as the months had gone by and no child was conceived, Santana found herself looking back on their hopeful, hushed conversations with sadness. She couldn't help but wonder if this was another one of those fruitless moments.

To allay her fears, she spoke against them. "This is more likely to work," she reminded Brittany, brushing her cheek with a soft knuckle. "The sperm is right up in there with your egg already."

Brittany nuzzled into Santana, kissing her face as much as she could without rolling off the pillow below her hips.

This _had_ to work, right?

* * *

><p>Two weeks later they stood next to each other in the bathroom as they brushed their teeth. Santana had gotten her period that morning, and although they were usually in sync, Brittany hadn't. They were hopeful and quietly giddy, confining their hopes to the present week as much as they could without extending into nine months, the next few years, or the rest of their lives. They didn't want to jinx it. Santana spat out her toothpaste and rinsed her mouth, lifting her head back up to look at Brittany in the mirror. "Test tomorrow?" she asked with a smile, rinsing her toothbrush and tapping it on the sink.<p>

Brittany smiled around her toothbrush and nodded before bending to spit and rinse her mouth.

"I have a good feeling about this one," Santana said as she put her toothbrush back in the holder. She kissed Brittany's cheek before walking back into the bedroom.

Santana pulled back the covers and climbed in bed. She shut her eyes and smiled, nestling into the pillow as she heard Brittany close the bathroom door as she finished getting ready for bed. Santana was tired, but still excited that tomorrow she might officially be a mother-to-be. A few minutes later she heard the bathroom door open again and Brittany slid into bed beside her.

Brittany's arms wrapped around Santana, heavy and with more urgency than usual. Santana broke from her peaceful reverie as Brittany pressed her head into Santana's shoulder blade.

"No test tomorrow..." Brittany mumbled. "It didn't work."

Before her chest could curl in on itself, Santana turned over, wrapping her arms around Brittany and pulling her even closer, feeling her breath soft against her neck. She had to let her know she would be held together. Brittany gave a shuddering sigh, though she tried to keep it quiet.

After a minute Brittany finally gave voice to the feeling in the room. "I'm really sad."

Santana nodded, running her hand up Brittany's back. "Me too."

Santana _did_ feel sad. Holding Brittany and feeling the weight of her disappointment pressed into her, she couldn't help it. But it was a strained sad, a sad she wouldn't let overtake her for fear it would flood her, or worse, make Brittany feel guilty.

"Why didn't it work?" Brittany whispered.

"I don't know, sweetheart," Santana said as she pulled Brittany closer. She wished she had an answer. She held Brittany in silence for a while, surrounded by the darkness of the bedroom and Brittany's warm, sluggish breath on her skin. It became too much.

"I have an idea," Santana said, pulling back and tracing her fingers over Brittany's cheek.

"Hm?" Brittany hummed, looking up at her.

"This might be our last two weeks without kids. We should take advantage of it. Let's go _crazy_ until the next round."

"Okay," Brittany smiled. It was a genuine smile, but one that indicated Santana's idea was second best. Of course it was: they would rather be watching reruns of _Baby Story_, buying maternity clothes and painting the nursery. But if they couldn't have that, they might as well party while they still could.

* * *

><p><strong>February<strong>

* * *

><p>Santana's plan to enjoy their non-pregnant time worked like a charm to dispel their sadness. Over the two weeks between Brittany's menstruation and ovulation, they lived life to the fullest. They drank good wine, ate lots of desserts, and consumed all the foods Brittany wouldn't be allowed to eat once she got pregnant: soft cheeses, coffee, dark chocolate, and sushi. They went to bars and clubs on weeknights, staying out way too late and going to class and the office the next morning hazy and sleep-deprived, propped up by coffee and sheer will. Once they got into the mindset of being college students again, it was easy to feel buoyant and wild. Right before Brittany started ovulating again, they spent the entire weekend having rough, passionate sex; they lounged around the house naked, ate their meals on the floor off each other's bodies, and got plenty of use out of their strap-on.<p>

They were still feeling the afterglow on Monday as Brittany dropped Santana off at the bus stop.

"I had a great weekend with you," Brittany grinned.

"Me too," Santana said, smiling as she leaned across the center console for a lingering, wet goodbye kiss. "I'm almost sad it's over."

"Can you pick up from Carlos on your way home tonight?" Brittany asked as Santana pulled away and unbuckled her seatbelt.

"Sure," Santana grinned, opening her door. "I've got a five o'clock conference call, but I'll do it after."

"Great. We can do a quick 'sem when you get back and then eat dinner in bed while I marinate," Brittany said, reaching to pull Santana back in for another kiss. "I love you, love you, love you so much," Brittany mumbled against Santana's mouth.

"Love you too, B," Santana smiled.

* * *

><p>Santana knocked on the back door of the administrative wing of the hotel later that evening. After a minute, Carlos opened it, giving her a tired smile.<p>

"Hey," he said, tipping his head in greeting.

"Hey," Santana replied, not moving to walk in.

This was their routine. She would knock, he would hand her a paper bag with the specimen cup inside, she'd nod and thank him, and head back to her house where Brittany was waiting. No further conversation was necessary.

Carlos held out the bag as usual and she reached for it, smiling her thanks. But tonight he didn't walk back inside immediately; he hovered in the door.

"Santana," Carlos began, keeping his hand on the doorknob. "How, uh... how much longer is this going to take?" he asked, his eyes darting around the back parking lot.

Santana tried not to grimace. She'd had a feeling this would be coming.

Carlos looked apologetic as he took a step out into the parking lot. "It's not that I mind helping you or the donation process... it's just that, well... I met someone."

Santana had felt a little guilty about their initial request for him to stay celibate while he was making donations. But at the time, they had anticipated it would take a month or two, three, tops. Certainly not six or seven. After so much time and hearing he was dating someone and was being celibate by choice rather than circumstance, she felt even more guilty.

"Oh gosh... I'm sorry, I know we're asking a lot of you," Santana apologized. "Our last intention was to cockblock you. _Hopefully_ this is the last one," she said, tightening her hold on the bag in her hand. "We started doing an intracervical insemination method and it's got a higher rate of taking."

"Okay," Carlos said, nodding as he glanced around the parking lot again.

Santana looked at his face, noting that he seemed to be withholding. Terrified he would pull out of their agreement, she continued, "Look, I'll talk to Britt and we'll work something out. We want you to get yours too, okay?"

Carlos gave an awkward smile and met her eyes, nodding. "Okay. Have a good evening. And good luck," he said, nodding towards the bag.

* * *

><p>"Today's the day," Santana grinned when Brittany walked into the kitchen two weeks later. "You said if you were two days late we'd test."<p>

Brittany beamed back at her. "Right now?" she asked.

Santana nodded, setting down her coffee and taking Brittany's hand, leading her toward the bathroom.

A few minutes later, Brittany sat tapping her fingers on the edge of the table, the test stick under a pot lid on a plate between them. They both eyed it nervously.

"Has it been three minutes?" Brittany asked for the third time, her ankle knocking against the leg of her chair.

Santana looked at the clock on the microwave for the twentieth time. "One more," she said. "Let's just think really positive thoughts, okay? Imagine the result we want to see."

"What do you think I've been doing this whole time?" Brittany asked, her face amused and frustrated at the same time. She took a deep breath and let it out with a whoosh. She kept tapping, eying the pot lid.

When the minute was up, Santana indicated the lid with her head and a lifted eyebrow. Brittany reached for the handle, eyebrows raised to ask Santana if she wanted to lift it together. Santana placed her hand over Brittany's, puckering her lips and making a kissing noise before they revealed the test.

Two matching solid blue lines. Negative.

Brittany lowered the lid back down, covering the failed test. She hunched her shoulders and tried to lift her hand from the pot lid, but Santana held her hand firm on the handle, begging her not to withdraw. She stood, scooting her chair back as she walked around to kneel and wrap her arms around Brittany's waist and press her head into her arm. Brittany didn't cry, just sat in her chair, slumped against Santana in heavy disappointment. Santana couldn't cry either, because then Brittany would worry and feel guilty, and the last thing Santana wanted was for Brittany to feel guilty about something she couldn't control. But after a minute of waiting for any kind of reaction from Brittany, Santana began to whimper as tears fought their way through her lashes.

"Don't cry," Brittany soothed, rubbing Santana's back. "I'm sorry sweetie. We'll try again..."

"I know," Santana said, pulling back to look at Brittany. She wiped her face. "I just see how you're beating yourself up over this and it's _not_ your fault, B!" She searched Brittany's face, hoping her tears hadn't upset Brittany.

Brittany looked away, sliding her arms away from Santana's shoulders. Santana took Brittany's hands and held them firmly in her own.

"You know that, right?" Santana asked, her tone desperate as she sniffled. "You know it's not your fault?"

Brittany shrugged, pursing her lips as her hands flinched in Santana's.

"B, what can I do to support you? How can I make this easier?" Santana begged, squeezing her hands.

Brittany bit her lip and looked back at Santana as if mulling over a response.

"I feel like we need to talk more," Santana sniffled. "We always talk about the baby and our plans for the future, but we don't talk about what's actually going on. Can we just admit that this sucks?" She looked at Brittany with pleading eyes.

Brittany's chin began to move slowly until Santana detected a nod. Brittany met Santana's gaze and mumbled, "This sucks."

Santana put her hands on Brittany's knees and echoed, "This sucks." She took a deep breath, calming now that she had voiced her hurt. "Can we go sit on the couch?" she asked. "I'll make a fire and we can cuddle."

Brittany gave her a sad smile and nodded, rising as she followed Santana into the living room.

Twenty minutes later they lay on the couch as a fire crackled and popped before them. Santana was propped up against the armrest with Brittany's back pressed against her stomach, fingers absentmindedly tangling in Brittany's hair. They watched the flames dance white and orange against the smudged brick walls of the fireplace. Mulling over ways to make the insemination process easier for either of them, Santana remembered her conversation with Carlos a few weeks earlier; securing and transporting sperm was just one more thing that made this process difficult, and now their only source might be considering backing out.

What if he did? Would they be forced to abandon their plans? Santana's neck stiffened at the thought. She wished that _she _could somehow get Brittany pregnant, but as soon as the thought became conscious, she pushed it away. It was ridiculous, impossible, and the thought of doing anything akin to producing sperm made her stomach clench.

And yet she knew _Brittany_ wouldn't find the idea of Santana impregnating her odd or uncomfortable. She would adore it, whatever it entailed. The details of love and family had never concerned Brittany. And yet it was those very details that stood in their way now, and it pained Santana to watch Brittany realize their limitations as a couple. Santana had felt inadequate many times in her life, but never with Brittany. Not until now. Now she felt like a spectator in her own relationship.

"Britt?" Her voice was small and feeble. "Do you ever wish you had ended up with a man?"

Brittany didn't speak, but shook her head as she stared into the fireplace.

Santana wasn't convinced. "Because this would be a lot easier with a man…" Santana continued.

"No it wouldn't," Brittany murmured, eyes still glued to the fire. "This would be hard with anyone." Her words were flat, but they seemed to float into the room, whispering like the flames.

"But if you had easier access to sperm…"

"That's not what makes this hard." Brittany's voice felt warmer now.

They lay in silence for a moment before Brittany turned onto her side, nestling into Santana. The wordless gesture of intimacy settled Santana a little bit.

There was more silence.

"Carlos is getting impatient, isn't he?" Brittany murmured.

Santana nodded against the top of Brittany's head. "He met someone," she stated.

Brittany sighed. "We should let him have some fun with her," she said, still staring at the fire.

"Yeah, I was thinking that too..." Santana mumbled. "I don't want him to back out of helping us."

"Me neither."

Santana held Brittany for a moment, wondering what Brittany's thoughts were about this decision. "Does that mean you want to take a break from trying?"

"No," Brittany replied, certain. "I want to keep trying. But I'm fine with him sleeping with someone. As long as he uses protection and doesn't do it within two days of a donation so his sperm count stays up."

"Okay." Santana ran her hands through Brittany's hair again. "Are you sure you'd feel safe knowing he wasn't celibate?"

Brittany nodded. "He's an honest man."

Santana gave Brittany a squeeze and sighed. "When did our life start revolving around semen?"

* * *

><p><strong>March<strong>

* * *

><p>Santana sat at her desk, feeling a bit more productive than she had the past few weeks. Since she and Brittany weren't out dancing all night, she was refreshed and focused at work. The pile in her inbox was dwindling, which made her feel successful, but restless too. Would she have to come up with work to do to justify her paycheck? She dreaded a day like that more than a day where she was flooded with work.<p>

As she was about to clear her desk before lunch, she got a text from Brittany. _I'm ovulating._

She smiled and wrote back. _Want me to pick up from Carlos on my way home?_

Brittany's response came a minute later. _Of course._

That night when Santana got home, they ate a quiet dinner before Santana picked up yet another sperm cup from Carlos. He seemed happier this time, which made Santana less worried he would stop making donations. She was relieved about that at least, but she was becoming increasingly worried about Brittany's self-esteem and why none of their inseminations had taken.

Brittany shifted under her after a few slow kisses and Santana settled on her knees between her legs. "Here we go," she said with a forced smile. "Magic try number seven."

But as she prepped the speculum and syringe, she felt there was nothing magical about it. It was a rehearsed interaction they had grown used to: just like Brittany took out the trash every week, once a month it was Santana's job to inseminate Brittany. They didn't even make an effort to get turned on beforehand anymore. They had had to surrender to the reality that it was physically uncomfortable for Brittany and awkward and clinical for Santana. It was futile to make it sensual; it was best to just do it quickly and move on to holding each other while their dwindling hope mingled in the kisses they exchanged once it was over.

Two weeks later, Santana sat at her desk, bored to tears with the few files in front of her. When her phone buzzed, she hoped it was Elinor or Brittany suggesting they do something fun for dinner. But when she looked down at it, all she saw was a short text from Brittany; a sad emoticon. A wordless indicator that Brittany had gotten her period.

Santana picked up the phone and called her.

"Hey, B..." Santana cooed into the receiver. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine..." Brittany sighed. "Just... you know. Not pregnant."

"Yeah," Santana mumbled, tracing between keys on her keyboard with her index finger. "Want me to pick up some food and download a movie for us tonight? We can cuddle and eat brownies."

"That sounds nice," Brittany replied, "But I think I'm going to study at Nicole's. Midterms are next week..."

"Okay," Santana said gently. There was a moment of quiet and Santana wondered what Brittany was doing. "Well, say hi to Nicole for me."

"I will. I'll be home late, but I'll give you a kiss when I come in."

"Okay." There was another moment of silence. "I love you, Britt."

"Love you, S."

Santana hung up and sighed. The thought of sitting alone in their apartment after yet another disappointment made her restless. _Too_ restless. She texted Elinor.

_Drinks tonight? My treat._

Santana set down her phone and reached for her computer mouse.

_Can't_, buzzed Elinor's reply. _Pizza night with Danielle and kids_.

Santana rolled her eyes and returned to her work. That was always Elinor's response recently. Come to think of it, Santana couldn't recall the last time they'd spent more than half an hour together over a lunch break. Denton had been traveling a lot lately, and Sasha and Kelsey were in and out of contact as they traveled in and around South America. There was a hint of that awful, sickening feeling she had had in the months after she graduated law school, when Brittany was gone and Elinor had moved away. It wasn't as crushing as it had been then, but the threat of it overtaking scared her. Loneliness.

She stayed at work late that night, checking and rechecking her work. She stayed until after the janitors had left. She stayed until a few minutes before the last bus home ran outside the building. She stayed until she knew she could go home and not cry.

* * *

><p>It wasn't until that weekend that Brittany and Santana were finally ready to talk about not being pregnant for the seventh time. Santana was sitting in the nursery at the desk they had quietly set up. Without saying it out loud, they had agreed they might as well make use of the room until it could fill its intended purpose.<p>

"Hey, S?" Brittany began, leaning against the doorway.

"What's up?" Santana responded, looking up from her laptop.

Brittany ran her thumb over the molding of the doorframe, studying it with a sheepish expression. "I know that when you're pregnant you're not supposed to tell anyone for the first few months, just in case something happens. But people usually tell their moms, right?"

"I think so. Why?"

"Well, I know we're not pregnant yet, but I kind of want to talk to mom…" Brittany walked into the room and sat on the armrest of the desk chair, looking at what Santana was doing. "I think my parents had trouble conceiving Hayley. That's why she's so much younger than me. Maybe mom knows something we could try?"

"Sounds good, B. I'm sure mom has some ideas. Plus it's starting to feel like we're really alone in this, and that's not what I want. It's you and me, but we're not isolated." Santana gave her a sympathetic smile and went back to typing her e-mail to Sasha.

Brittany grinned. "You said 'mom,'" she murmured. "Not '_your_ mom' like usual."

Santana paused her typing and looked up at her with brightening smile. "I guess I did," she admitted.

Brittany wrapped her arm around Santana's shoulder and pressed her lips into Santana's hair. "I love that you love my family so much."

"Of course, B," Santana said as she wrapped her arm around Brittany's waist.

"They're your family too now, you know," Brittany murmured, face still buried in Santana's hair.

Santana hummed, remembering Gordon and Vickie's toast at Christmas—the toast she had been so desperate for them to finish so she and Brittany could go take a pregnancy test.

Santana's eyes flitted to the ground for a second as she remembered for the hundredth time that she couldn't talk to her own mother about their efforts to get pregnant. But that seemed ridiculous; she had always known that wouldn't be an option. Dolores wasn't the mentor and comforter she knew Vickie was for Brittany. It had always been that way and it was never going to change.

As if reading her mind, Brittany spoke up. "You should talk to Elinor," she suggested, "She's not your mom, but you should have someone to support you."

Santana looked up. "Really?" She was surprised at Brittany's suggestion; they had agreed not to tell their friends until they were pregnant.

"Uh huh."

"Okay," Santana nodded. "It'd be nice to have someone to talk to... Thanks, B."

Brittany kissed her on the head before standing. "I'm gonna make a smoothie. Want one?"

"Sure," Santana smiled, turning back to her email.

* * *

><p><strong>April<strong>

* * *

><p>"Perfect timing!" Santana called when she heard Brittany walk in the door. "Dinner's ready."<p>

"What'd you make?" Brittany said, cheerful as she set down her things and looked over Santana's shoulder.

"Cooked greens, tuna salad and protein-rich quinoa," Santana said, leaning back to kiss Brittany's cheek. She hadn't known what quinoa _was_ until their grocery shopping had become fertility-focused. Despite the odd name, she was relieved to discover quinoa was delicious. She couldn't say the same for the flax seed Brittany sprinkled on her salads or the cod liver oil Brittany claimed 'wasn't so bad,' but she bit her tongue and swallowed it anyway.

"Yum," Brittany said with a nod, looking at the food Santana had prepared.

"I wanted a nice dinner to celebrate because I have good news," Santana said with a smug smile.

"Yeah?" Brittany said, her eyebrows raised in hope.

"The state senate set a date to begin debating the bill," Santana said, reaching for her necklace and fingered the ring that hung from it.

"They did?" Brittany gasped, clapping in delight.

"Yup. The third week of July. It's the first thing on the agenda," Santana said as she took out a serving spoon.

"It better be! That's _great_ news," Brittany exclaimed. "The best news I've heard all week."

"Me too," Santana said, removing the lid from one of the pots on the stove.

"Denton and Elinor must be pretty happy too," Brittany said, tilting her head as Santana served their dinner onto plates.

Santana nodded as Brittany washed and dried her hands, walking to sit at the table Santana had already set.

"Did you talk to Elinor about baby stuff?" Brittany asked.

"Not yet," Santana shrugged. "She's been kind of busy. I'm hoping if I wait a few weeks I can just tell her you're in the first weeks of pregnancy," she said, winking as she walked toward the table with a plate in each hand. "Did your mom have any ideas?" she asked, setting a plate in front of Brittany and sitting down.

"Mostly we just talked about the frustration of not getting pregnant," Brittany said. "But she said the most important thing is to relax and trust your body knows what to do." She took a bite, humming in appreciation for the healthy home-cooked meal.

Santana nodded, but she couldn't help but wonder what _she_ was supposed to do. _Her_ body didn't know how to get Brittany pregnant. _Her_ body didn't know how to respond when Brittany was upset after each failed attempt. _Her_ body didn't know the first thing about dealing with infertility. All she really knew how to do was love Brittany, and right now, that didn't seem like enough.

"Are we still on for starting another round this weekend?" Santana asked, buoying herself.

"Of course," Brittany said, smiling as she scooped up another bite. "I'm feeling good about this one."

* * *

><p>When Brittany arrived home a few weeks later, Santana was on the couch waiting for her. She'd gotten her period that day, and since they were in sync, if Brittany hadn't, it was a good sign.<p>

"So?" Santana asked, smiling.

"So?" Brittany asked, mirroring her with her eyebrows raised as she set down her backpack.

"Did you get yours today? I got mine."

Brittany's smile grew brighter as she straightened up. "I didn't."

Santana's eyes widened in delight. "So..."

"Let's spend the evening together," Brittany suggested. "Let's eat and snuggle and then tomorrow after breakfast, if I still don't get it, we'll take a test."

"Perfect," Santana said, patting the seat next to her. "C'mere baby. I'm gonna wait on you hand and foot."

They ate dinner on the couch and watched reruns of _The Wonder Years_. Santana realized Fred and Winnie's young love was an echo of their own and smiled, pulling Brittany closer to her. When Brittany got up to use the bathroom, Santana grew nervous, but when Brittany emerged with a calm smile, shaking her head to soothe Santana's fears, she relaxed again.

The next morning Santana woke before Brittany, gazing at her eyelids and the gentle curve of her neck. In the morning light that streamed between the curtains, Brittany seemed to glow. Santana wondered what a pregnant glow looked like. It was supposed to be beautiful, right? She couldn't imagine Brittany being more beautiful than she looked right then. She seemed so soft, so feminine, and so peaceful; Santana didn't want to wake her. Wanting to make a gesture of love without disturbing her slumber, Santana slid out of bed and went into the kitchen to make breakfast.

Santana squeezed fresh orange juice from oranges Brittany had picked up at the market. She added sparkling water and pressed sliced strawberries onto the rims of their cups to make mock mimosas. She cut fruit, arranging it in a fan on a plate, and made toast with almond butter and honey. She poured a little of Brittany's organic cereal into two bowls and added milk, sprinkling flax seed on top. She took out Brittany's various bottles of vitamins and placed the usual assortment of capsules in a dish. As she was placing everything on a tray to take back to the bedroom, Brittany appeared in the doorway.

"Morning," Brittany murmured with a smile, her tousled hair hanging around her face in waves.

Santana turned to look at her, almost sheepish at the mess she had made while preparing their feast. "Morning," she grinned. "How are you feeling?"

"Good," Brittany said. "Tired."

"You slept for nine hours," Santana noted.

"I know," Brittany said with a shy smile.

"The book said that can be one of the first signs," Santana said, pulling Brittany's chair out for her.

"I know," Brittany beamed, sinking into her chair.

They sat at the table, grinning at each other as they ate.

"I like when you cook for me," Brittany said after a moment of quiet.

"I like cooking for you," Santana said, taking a spoonful of cereal and holding it to up to Brittany's lips. "When the test comes back positive I'm going to spoil you rotten, you know. You're not going to lift a finger at all this weekend," Santana said with bravado. "I'm going to rub your feet and bring you tea - herbal, of course - and tell you just how beautiful you are."

Brittany blushed into her cereal. "I sure hope it's positive, then."

When they were done, Santana cleared the dishes and took Brittany's hand. "Let's start the test and wait for the results in the baby's room," she suggested.

After Brittany peed on the test stick, they set it on a plate on the desk. Santana opened her computer and put on Etta James' _At Last,_ which was conveniently only three minutes long. She slowed danced with Brittany, noting exactly how Brittany's body felt against hers. After ten years, it was as familiar as water pouring over her in the shower each morning. She wondered if, once Brittany was pregnant, she would forget the feel of the flat plane pressed to her stomach. She didn't think she would miss it once Brittany's stomach was rounded, but she wanted to remember it, like a picture she kept in her skin.

When Etta crooned her last note and the strings tied off the song, Santana kissed Brittany deeply. She could tell Brittany's heartbeat was as fast as hers as she reached behind her for the test. They held it between them, squinting.

Two blue lines. Negative.

Santana sighed and set the test back on the plate. "This sucks," she said. She had vowed to be honest about her feelings with Brittany.

Instead of acknowledging her own hurt, Brittany stepped back and slunk out of the room. "I'm going to clean up the kitchen," she mumbled.

"I'll do it, Britt," Santana called after her.

Brittany didn't respond. A moment later Santana heard Brittany turn on the tap and begin rinsing the dishes.

* * *

><p>Santana looked around Elinor's apartment, noting the new pictures Elinor had placed on the shelves of her with Danielle.<p>

"It's good to see you!" Elinor chirped, settling on the sofa next to her. "It's been a while. How _are_ you?"

"Eh, okay. Things are just kind of hard lately..." Santana shrugged, her voice sluggish. "There's actually something I wanted to talk to you about."

Elinor opened her mouth to respond just as her phone rang. She picked it up and looked at the caller ID. "Hang on, Danielle's calling."

Santana nodded and got up to examine Elinor's movie collection, seeing if there was anything new she wanted to borrow. After scanning all those titles, Elinor was still giggling into the phone. Santana moved on to look at her books.

After a trip to the bathroom to pee and examine her makeup, Santana came back into the living room to find Elinor was still on the phone, recounting her interaction with a former colleague she had run into at the grocery store. Santana settled back on the couch, bristling as she scrolled through her email on her own phone, waiting for Elinor to finish her conversation. Elinor's bubbling laughter grated on her, and she felt her scalp and lips tighten. She remembered all the times Elinor had turned down invitations to hang out in favor of spending time with Danielle. She remembered the many phone calls in which Santana had asked about her life, only to regret the inquiry when Elinor endlessly recounted the hundreds of cute things she and Danielle had done with the kids recently. Each incident was stacking up in her mind as she listened to Elinor coo into the phone, seemingly unaware of Santana's brooding presence. It was another ten minutes before Elinor hung up with a series of sickening kissing noises. Santana was furious.

"Elinor, what the fuck!" Santana exclaimed. "I know Danielle is perfect and you'd rather be fucking her right now but I'm trying to tell you that Brittany's having trouble getting pregnant and it seems like you just don't _care_!"

Elinor looked shocked. "I—I had _no_ idea, Santana," she stuttered, dropping her phone on the cushion next to her.

"Of course you didn't, you never have time for me anymore!" Santana spat as she started to tear up. "You're always with Danielle!" She hated herself for crying. She was angry at Elinor, and the last thing she wanted was to blubber in front of her.

"C'mere, Santana," Elinor said softly after a moment, leaning towards her with her arms out.

Santana crossed her arms over her chest, unwilling to accept her friend's embrace. She didn't know if she was ready to forgive her.

Elinor saw her hesitance and put down her arms. "I'm _so_ sorry I haven't been there for you. I guess I... I guess I got more caught up in being in love that I thought. You know what that's like... right?"

Santana didn't respond, keeping her feet and gaze locked and rigid on the floor, though bending inside a bit.

"How long have you been trying?" Elinor pressed.

"Eight months."

"That long?" Elinor asked, incredulous. "Oh gosh..." Santana could hear Elinor's guilt deepen as she realized how distant their friendship had become.

Santana nodded. "We've been doing intra-cervical inseminations for four and that hasn't worked either," she grumbled.

Elinor's attention was focused solely on Santana as she waited for Santana to continue.

"Brittany's getting so sad and blaming herself, even though it's not her fault at all," Santana muttered as she met Elinor's gaze. She uncrossed her arms when she saw her own sadness reflected there. _There_ was her best friend. _There_ was the girl she had missed so much. She started to unravel. "I feel powerless and like I'm doing something wrong, and I—I have no idea what to do!" Santana said, shaking her head slowly back and forth. "I don't want her to get sad again. I don't want her to—to _leave_ me!" Santana said, finally breaking.

Elinor held out her arms again and this time Santana fell into them. "She's not going to leave you, Santana," Elinor hushed as she rubbed Santana's trembling back. "She loves you more than anything. Why else would she want to have a baby with you?"

Santana shuddered and sighed onto Elinor's shoulder, relieved she had been able to tell someone. Elinor's warmth and words were comforting.

"I know she loves me... I'm just scared. I didn't think this would be so hard," Santana mumbled.

"Yeah..." Elinor murmured. "You should tell her you're scared. She'll understand."

"I hope..." Santana whimpered. "I really hope... But I've hoped for so much lately. Hoped for the baby, hoped for the bill, hoped for her health... I don't have any left for me."

"There's always hope, Santana," Elinor murmured. "Whenever you need some, I'll be holding it for you." She squeezed Santana into their hug. "I'll hold your hope."


	63. Underwater

**Chapter 63 – Underwater**

Chapter title and **soundtrack:**"Underwater" by Vertical Horizon

A/N: As always, thanks to my team, Mia, terriblemuriel, and Emma's 409.

* * *

><p>When Santana returned from Elinor's, Brittany was humming as she made dinner. Not wanting to spoil the mood, Santana didn't bring up her worries about Brittany's sadness. She meant to talk to Brittany later that week, but when she saw that Brittany was going about her life as usual: getting her work done, going to all her classes, going out with her friends, exercising and eating well, she didn't worry as much. She didn't want to fix what wasn't broken. The next week passed in a similar fashion. Santana figured everything was okay.<p>

The first weekend in May they did their fifth intracervical insemination. Santana intended to talk about her fears first, but when Brittany came home animated and cheerful with the latest deposit from Carlos, she bit her tongue. A subtle, hopeful anxiety settled over the house afterwards, tingeing their meals and quiet nights on the couch. They snuggled together as they watched the box set of _Sweet Valley High_ Santana had given Brittany for her twenty-seventh birthday, reminiscing their high school days and trying not to focus too much on how many days were left until they would find out if the insemination worked.

Santana came home from work two weeks after the insemination, adjusting to the quiet anticipation of the house the moment she opened the door. She thought Brittany was at class, so she set down her briefcase and took off her blazer, going into the bathroom to pee before preparing dinner. When she opened the bathroom door, she saw an open box of tampons on the counter. She hadn't put it there that morning. It could only mean one thing...

Peering into the bedroom, she saw Brittany's silhouette under the sheets, turned toward the wall on her side. Her shoulder rose and fell with her breathing, slow and rhythmic. Santana's mind flashed back to the last time she'd seen Brittany in bed like this during the day- the day Brittany left her, just weeks before she graduated from law school. Her stomach hardened and she gulped.

"Britt?" Santana whispered.

"Hm," Brittany hummed.

Santana walked into the room, toeing off her shoes and slipping into bed beside Brittany, dress pants and all. She curled around her, fumbling for the hand tucked under the pillow.

"Hey," Santana hushed. "You should have told me."

"Sorry," Brittany mumbled.

The silence of the room pressed into Santana's ears, constricting around her heart. She knew she had to speak up now.

"Britt, I'm really worried about you."

"Don't be worried about me..." Brittany sighed. "I'm fine."

"I _am_ worried about you," Santana pressed, squeezing Brittany's hand. "You seem so sad." Santana swallowed, pushing herself to continue. She took a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment to steady herself. "Sad like you were before you left." Her voice wasn't as steady as she hoped.

Brittany rolled back towards Santana, alert. She turned her head and met Santana's gaze.

"It scares me," Santana continued. "You're far away all the time now. When you came back, we promised each other we'd talk about things even when they were hard."

"I'm sorry I'm scaring you," Brittany said, nestling into the bed on her back, looking at Santana. "It's not the same as before though. Don't worry."

"How is it different?" Santana asked, frowning in concentration and doubt.

"It's not depression, it's... grief," Brittany sighed. "It's torture to spend half of every month wondering if he or she is finally coming and then find out they're not. When I wonder if I'm pregnant I could swear I feel a little flutter low in my belly..."

Santana's eyes followed Brittany's hand as she placed it on her stomach.

"But then I wonder if I'm just imagining things. When I find out there's no baby I feel like I must be crazy for imagining that."

"You're not crazy, Britt," Santana murmured, brushing her fingertips over the hand on Brittany's stomach.

Brittany moved her hand away and looked at the ceiling. "I don't know what's going on with my own body half the time and I've never felt that way before." Her voice was barely above a whisper as she added, "I hate disappointing you."

Understanding how Brittany was feeling was almost worse than the fear of not knowing. "Britt, you're _not_," Santana choked. She swallowed, hoping to loosen the guilt lodged in her throat. "I'm disappointed, but not with _you_."

For a brief moment Santana considered offering to carry their child herself. But that was the job Brittany wanted in making their family, one Santana knew she would take great pride in. In an odd way, Santana had adjusted to _her_ job, too; creating the space and inseminating Brittany was something she had grown almost... _proud_ of. She didn't want to suggest a different arrangement when Brittany was so fragile. She refused to bring up anything that might knock down Brittany's self-esteem. And for all she knew, she'd have just as much trouble getting pregnant as Brittany. It didn't seem like a good time to offer a faulty solution.

Brittany took a deep breath and exhaled, her chest seeming to sink deeper into the mattress.

"I feel like _I'm_ disappointing you," Santana argued, her voice slightly more sure as she propped herself up on her elbow. She reached for Brittany's hand and clasped it, interlocking their fingers. "All I can do is sit here and hold your hand and _hope_. I'm... I'm powerless."

Brittany didn't respond for a moment, her eyes locked on the ceiling. A sad smile crossed her face as she turned toward Santana and murmured, "We're _all_ powerless."

Brittany's eyes held the humanity of her words. She looked small, almost scared. Santana couldn't bear to see her look like that. She fought back tears as she whispered, "Do we need to take a break from trying?"

"_Please_ no," Brittany pleaded, squeezing Santana's hand. "I want to start our family. Don't you?" Brittany sounded scared.

"Of _course_, B," Santana replied. "Of course I want to have a baby together. And we _will_. But if you need to take a break, let's take a break. It doesn't mean we'll give up. I just don't want you to feel like this all the time."

"It's not all the time," Brittany shrugged. "Some days are worse than others. Like today."

"I know..." Santana said, her head dipping with the weight of her lingering doubts.

"I don't want to take a break," Brittany stated. "Not yet."

Santana bit her lip as she thought for a minute. "Will you tell me if you need to talk to Dr. Lisa? I know she's two hours away, but nothing's more important than your health. If you want we could go see someone together or... I don't know, find a support group or something."

"Okay," Brittany looked straight into Santana's eyes as she nodded. "I'll tell you." Santana knew she was telling the truth.

Santana leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Brittany's lips before she set her head on the pillow. Brittany rolled onto her side again, shifting back to fit their hips together. Santana wiggled closer and squeezed Brittany. She was relieved; she felt safer now.

"Do you want to try something different next time?" Santana asked.

Brittany thought for a moment before answering. "Let's have a fresh start," she suggested. "Put all the disappointment behind us."

"Sounds good," Santana said, kissing between Brittany's shoulder blades. "But I still want you to talk to me about how you're feeling."

"Okay," Brittany said. "Will you bring it up if I don't?"

Santana nodded against Brittany's shoulder and closed her eyes, sleepy with relief.

Remembering Brittany's pleas to be anchored during her recovery from depression, Santana squeezed her again and murmured, "I'm not gonna let you go, Britt."

Brittany squeezed her hand in response, taking a deep breath and releasing it with a sigh.

* * *

><p>Santana smiled as she ran her finger along the stiff, glossy edge of the picture, admiring the shape of her hands creating a diamond around Brittany's bellybutton. She noticed the picture was dusty, so she picked it up and rubbed it against her shirt. It had been on the fertility altar for six months now; they'd been trying for nine. She remembered the moment the picture was taken: Brittany's flat, warm stomach beneath her hands as Brittany snapped the picture. Their hope had been abundant then. She remembered that nervous excitement during their first few attempts; she could almost see it in the photograph. They were supposed to be recapturing that nervous excitement again this time.<p>

Brittany walked up behind her, putting her hand on Santana's back as she placed a small figurine on the altar; a round, full-figured clay woman with exaggerated breasts lifting her arms to the sky. Vickie had sent them a package of well-wishes for their continued attempts; vitamins - although they already had plenty of those -, teas, a meditation book, and a little fertility goddess statue. Santana thought to herself that the statue didn't look like any woman _she_ knew - the shape was almost cartoonish - but she was willing to entertain anything that made Brittany hopeful.

Santana set the picture back on the altar.

"We should take a new one," Brittany said, nodding towards the picture. "Fresh start."

"Okay," Santana nodded. She opened the drawer and took the camera out as Brittany rolled her shirt up.

Brittany took the camera and held it in front of her, waiting until Santana was positioned behind her and her hands were in place around her belly button.

"C'mon, baby," Brittany murmured as she pressed the button down. "Your mamas are waiting for you." The flash snapped a few times before ricocheting around the room.

"Another for good luck," Santana suggested, patting Brittany's stomach.

Brittany smiled and pressed the button down again.

Brittany set the camera down and moved towards the bed, slipping off her clothes as they prepared for the first insemination since the weather had warmed.

* * *

><p>Two and a half weeks later, Brittany's period was late. Santana hovered in the doorway as Brittany sat on the bathroom counter drumming her fingers. The test lay on the edge of the bathtub, ominous as the seconds ticked by. These three minutes felt longer than the entire two weeks leading up to it.<p>

Santana was conflicted this time. Of course she wanted to know that they would be welcoming a tiny boy or girl in nine months. But she wanted a positive test result for Brittany's sake almost more this time. Two images flashed through her mind: the one she prayed for but hadn't seen yet, where Brittany's eyes lit up moments before she tackled Santana in a hug, and the one she was used to seeing, where Brittany's face fell moments before she went quiet and stony. It was easier to imagine the second; she'd seen it every time. She felt guilty when she realized she was anticipating seeing that face again. Maybe that was why her nerves were settled lower in her stomach - there was a hint of dread. Wanting to encourage a new, happier reaction, she closed her eyes and pictured Brittany beaming and bouncing twice before jumping towards her, test clutched triumphantly in her hand.

Santana glanced at her phone, seeing the three minutes were up. Her stomach clenched and she took a silent breath, preparing for either response. "Time," she said, giving Brittany a nervous but encouraging smile.

Brittany hopped off the counter and tucked her hair behind her ears as she bent over to examine the test. She picked it up, expressionless for a moment before hurling it into the shower. It clattered and fell down by the drain.

"What am I doing _wrong_?" Brittany yelled. "I did everything the book said! I did _everything_!" She slid down the cabinet onto the floor, her face crinkling as she drew her knees to her chest and began to cry. Santana froze.

"Am I being punished for something?" Brittany sobbed. "Isn't it bad enough we can't make a baby together, but doing it this fucked-up, roundabout way has to be impossible _too_?"

Santana was startled and panicked; she had only heard Brittany curse like that a handful of times in her life. She realized that all their talk of a fresh start had been pretense; there really wasn't any way to forget this was the tenth disappointment in a row. She had to do something to fix whatever was hurting Brittany. She had to do _something_.

"You're not doing anything wrong, sweetheart…" she murmured as she sat down next to Brittany, angling her torso towards her as she sat against the cabinets. "I'm sure it's just bad timing or something. Maybe- maybe there's something wrong with the sperm after all. We should go get that checked out."

Brittany's anger dissipated as she let sadness sweep over her, making her limbs and shoulders heavy. She nodded slowly as she let tears roll down her face. Santana turned toward her and took Brittany in her arms. Brittany melted into her, sliding down Santana's chest a little bit as she closed her eyes and just cried. As she did, the weight of her sadness pulled her down until she was resting her head in Santana's lap. Santana brushed through her hair with her fingers, not saying a word for a long time. Her eyes stung and she felt the hot prickle of tears down her cheeks, but unlike Brittany's, hers were silent. She didn't want to take her arms away from Brittany for even a moment, so she let them pool on her chin.

She waited until the knot in her throat loosened before she spoke. When she did, her voice was soft and warm, the way she imagined she would speak to Brittany's tummy once there was a baby inside. "I'm sorry it didn't work," she said, pausing to slide her fingers through Brittany's hair a few more times. The bathroom seemed to be the worst place to comfort her; save for the small rug under Brittany's knees, it was all hard tile and ceramic and echoes. She continued, "But I'm really glad you're not just pretending you're okay."

Brittany nodded against Santana's thigh and sighed. "Me too." She took a few more breaths before asking, "Are you sad too?"

Santana swallowed to smooth her voice before she spoke and nodded. As she did, a tear dripped from her chin onto Brittany's cheek. Brittany's hand reached to touch the splatter and Santana thought she would wipe it away, but instead Brittany moved her fingers back and forth, rubbing it into her cheek.

Brittany swallowed and sniffled. "Let's go see Dr. Greene," she said, her words indicating she was almost ready to get up off the floor.

"Okay," Santana murmured in response, cupping Brittany's cheek. "I'll make us an appointment."

* * *

><p>Despite the test indicating Brittany wasn't pregnant, she still hadn't gotten her period a week later. They were hesitantly hopeful. Santana gripped Brittany's hand as Brittany looked up at her from the medical exam table. On her other side, Dr. Greene, a feisty, energetic black woman with glasses, was taping a cotton ball over the pit of Brittany's elbow where she had just drawn blood.<p>

"Okay, ladies," Dr. Greene said, securing the medical tape. "You hold tight, I'll be right back with your results." She smiled as she quickly left the room with a sample of Brittany's blood and a container of Carlos' sperm.

Brittany exhaled through her mouth, her lips set in a tight 'o.' Santana held her hand steadfast, willing her heart to beat evenly for the both of them. They sat in tense silence for ten minutes.

"What's taking so long?" Brittany wondered.

Santana shrugged, then took the positive approach to managing their anxiety. "I'm pretty sure the home test was just wrong," she said for the twentieth time. "Do you want to know if it's a boy or a girl?" she asked.

"Let's make sure there's a baby first," Brittany said, placing her free hand flat on the table at her side.

"Okay." Santana brushed her fingers up and down the inside of Brittany's arm around the cotton ball, drawing Brittany's attention away from the tension in the room.

After a while, Dr. Greene knocked and quickly entered. "Well I have good news and bad news."

"Oh no…" Brittany whispered, dropping her head back on the hospital pillow.

"The bad news is you're not pregnant - not _yet_."

"Then why am I late?" Brittany frowned.

"Could be stress," Dr. Greene said, her tone regretful. "You said you're a nursing student, right?"

Brittany nodded.

"It's exam time, too," Santana added.

"That's probably it," Dr Greene said, nodding. "But the _good_ news is that there doesn't seem to be a motility issue with your donor's sperm. So you don't need to start from scratch there."

Brittany let out a dejected sigh, her whole chest drooping. "Is there something wrong with _me_?" she asked. Her voice was quiet and small. It broke Santana's heart.

"Female fertility testing is more complex than male fertility testing," Dr. Greene hedged. "But I don't think that's necessarily the conclusion to jump to. Remind me how long you've been trying?"

"Three inseminations every month since September of last year. So… ten months," Santana answered.

"Thirty inseminations," Brittany muttered, fidgeting with her bracelet. "Thirty failures…"

"Okay, okay… well it's not outside the realm of possibility that it's just been a few missed windows. We usually don't do testing until it's been a least a year without any fertilization, but we can explore that if you want. The other option is to do in-clinic inseminations."

Santana looked at Brittany, reading her face before answering, "We don't want to do a clinic insemination if we can avoid it."

"Understandable," Dr. Greene responded. "Well let me know if you change your mind or decide you want to do some testing. Once those test results come back we could talk about your options."

"What kind of options?" Brittany cringed, still playing with her bracelet.

"Well, it depends on the results. Hormonal fertility enhancement is one possible route if the results indicate it might be necessary, but we don't want to jump to that if we can avoid it. In-vitro fertilization is another option we can discuss if..."

Santana saw Brittany's eyes glaze over as Dr. Green rambled on about testing and fertile windows and other options for insemination. As she watched Brittany retreat inside herself further and further, her heart broke. When she heard Dr. Greene pause, she turned to her with a forced smile.

"Thank you so much, Dr. Greene," she said with as much kindness as she could muster. "We definitely have a lot to think about. We'll talk about what we want to do and give you a call, okay?"

Dr. Greene gave a sympathetic smile and left the room, her coat swishing quietly through the door as it closed behind her.

Brittany brought her hands to her face and Santana turned toward her, resting her hands on her forearms.

"Sweetheart, I know you're upset. I'm disappointed too. But let's not give up, okay? Let's keep trying for a few more cycles. If nothing happens in the next six months, then we'll do some testing. We have other options, too. We can reconsider adoption and fostering. And you know… last time I checked, I have a uterus too."

"But then I'd feel like more of a failure..." Brittany mumbled. "I want to be the one to do it... I'm just so discouraged…" She flopped her hands from her face to the paper of the exam table. "All her talk about testing and hormonal fertility enhancement… My body is supposed to just _do_ this! The idea that I might not ever be able to have a baby..." Brittany trailed off and Santana leaned a few inches closer to her, waiting for her to finish her sentence. Brittany stared out the window for a long time.

"It makes me feel like I'm less of a woman," Brittany whispered.

"Oh— oh, _honey_," Santana gasped as she wrapped her arms around Brittany. "You are every _bit_ a woman," she insisted. "You're strong and soft and you have an enormous heart. Having a baby doesn't make anyone a woman." She cradled Brittany to her, feeling the warmth and softness she spoke of. "And it's certainly not what makes someone a mom."

"I know…" Brittany mumbled, sitting back with her chin tucked down as she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. "It's just something I really want to do. I know that sounds crazy. No one wants to be nauseated and achy and uncomfortable and enormous and then have to push something the size of a _watermelon_ out a hole the size of a lemon."

Santana wrinkled her nose, both at the analogy and at Brittany's attempt at a joke when she was clearly upset. "We don't have to keep trying right now," she said. "We're still young. We can take a break."

"No," Brittany said, vehement as she shook her head. "I really _want_ this. I feel like everywhere I go I see pregnant women or women with babies and I get so jealous. I've never felt like I was missing out on something _so much_." She studied the hem of her shirt for a moment before continuing, sounding almost guilty. "The other day there was this pregnant lady walking out of the store behind me and I didn't hold the door for her because I was just... so _mad_. And then I sat in my car and cried because I felt like a horrible person."

"You're not a horrible person," Santana murmured as she brushed Brittany's hair behind her ear.

"Every day I think of a new story to tell or song to sing our baby. I want to be able to hold it and wonder what he or she will be like when they grow up. And I want to lie on our bed with our baby between us and fall asleep together, even if we get woken up an hour later when the baby cries... Because most of all, I want to feel like you and I are doing something incredible together; the biggest thing we'll ever do. I know I'll feel closer to you than ever."

Santana felt tears starting to sting in her eyes and she leaned forward and captured Brittany in a desperate hug. She hoped her voice wouldn't waver when she spoke. "I want that too, sweetheart… _so_ much. Let's try something different this time."


	64. You Take My Breath Away

**Chapter 64 - You Take My Breath Away**

Chapter title and soundtrack: "You Take My Breath Away." I prefer the **Eva Cassidy** version. This is not to be confused with other songs with a similar title.

Terriblemuriel was a fearless terrain guide through my author angst over this chapter. I owe her a big thank you. Also, if you haven't checked out her latest story, you should - it's delicious.

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><p>Santana came home, paper bag clutched in one hand, briefcase in the other. Brittany was watching TV on the couch.<p>

"Hey baby," Santana chirped. "How was your day?"

"Good," Brittany smiled, clicking the remote. The TV flickered off.

"I just picked up from Carlos," Santana said, holding the bag up as she set down her briefcase and slipped out of her shoes.

Brittany smiled and got up from the couch. She gave Santana a soft peck on the lips and murmured her thanks.

"Start in five?" Santana asked, turning toward the bedroom.

Brittany eyed the bag in Santana's hand for a moment before shrugging and answering, "Sure."

Santana heard hesitation in her voice. "Don't you want to?" she prodded.

"I do... but I don't know, I was thinking... maybe you're right, maybe we should take a break."

"Oh." Santana was stunned at the shift in Brittany's attitude since their conversation at Dr. Greene's the week before. "Okay... we can do that," she said, staring at Brittany in surprise. After a moment she glanced down at the bag in her hand, wondering what to do with it. It seemed like a waste, especially since Carlos was being so gracious about the process.

Santana set the bag on a shelf and put her hands on Brittany's hips. "Why the sudden change of heart, sweetie? You were so sure the other day..."

Brittany gave a little shrug. "I'm stressed out about it and that's probably why it's not working... I still really want to have a baby together, I'm just tired of being disappointed."

Santana nodded. It was easy to understand why Brittany was conflicted. She waited for a moment before gently asking, "Do you want to try one last time before we do, since we have it right here?"

"Sure," said Brittany, smiling and giving another small shrug. "It can't hurt, right?"

"Only if you're sure," Santana said, staring into Brittany's eyes to detect any uncertainty.

"I'm sure," Brittany said, her gaze meeting Santana's. Her tone was light but her eyes were confident.

Santana eyed her for a minute to double-check that she really wanted to try one more time. Brittany's gaze held fast, and Santana's doubts quieted. She kissed Brittany on the cheek and turned toward the bedroom. "Give me a minute to get everything ready."

Santana set the bag on the nightstand and took off her work clothes, slipping into a tank top and cotton pajama pants. She took the duvet and sheets off the bed entirely, folding them and putting them on a chair. She stacked the pillows against the headboard, save one firm one that she put on the floor by her side of the bed. She filled the syringe, leaning it against the side of the specimen cup and covering it with a tissue, setting it on the nightstand. She didn't bother with the speculum or the flashlight or any other clinical trappings. She wanted tonight's attempt to be enjoyable, lessening the pressure on both of them. The many tools they'd acquired didn't allow for that. Finally, she lit every candle she could find: the purple one on the altar, the votive next to Brittany's side of the bed, and three little pink ones on the shelf. She went out to the living room and brought several more in, lighting them from the flames of the others and placing them around the room before drawing the blinds.

Taking one last look around, Santana felt the urge to do something more. Everything was ready, but it still felt unsettled. She didn't know what it was.

Santana had been raised with a strictly practical belief system; her parents taught her that science, especially medicine, could explain everything. But this time it couldn't. According to science, Brittany should have been pregnant months ago. They'd tracked her ovulation, tested the sperm, and taken every step to ensure their efforts would be successful. But they hadn't been. She had just as many questions about getting pregnant now as she did when they had started, only this time, there was no book to provide the answers.

Her gaze fell on the fertility altar. The funny little statue of the woman with exaggerated breasts leaned against the potted orchid next to the picture of Brittany's stomach and the welcome rock. She picked the statue up, examining it with her fingertips. Was it so strange to think a little statue could bring them luck? Brittany didn't think it was strange. Brittany believed in a lot of things that Santana was unsure about: heaven, God, spirits and energies, art and poetry. In general, Santana didn't like things that couldn't be seen or explained.

Except love. She knew love.

So perhaps it was love that brought her to her knees, holding the little statue in her palm. She turned it in her hand, feeling its weight like a river rock. She opened her mouth to speak, but realized she didn't know what to say. She felt silly and closed it again, shutting her eyes and wrapping her fingers around the figure in her hand. This felt odd; she didn't know what she was doing. She didn't know if she should be talking to God or the fertility goddess or the baby she was praying for, so she just let her plea float silently out into the room, hoping it would get to someone or something that would hear.

_Please._

_Please, please, please_.

The word echoed so loud in her head she started to tear up. She squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath and stood, placing the figure back on the altar and taking in the room one last time before she went out to the living room to get Brittany.

"You're sure about this?" Santana asked one more time.

"Yeah," Brittany nodded. She was willing, but her smile was resigned.

Elinor's words echoed in Santana's mind. _I'll hold your hope._ She vowed to hold Brittany's hope as steadfast as she could.

"Whatever happens, happens," Santana said, squeezing Brittany's hand as she led her into the bedroom. "You and I are still a family."

As they entered the bedroom, Brittany's smile shifted as she took in the scene Santana had set. The altar and the container of sperm by the bed drew her attention; once symbols of hope and future, they now signified disappointment. She grimaced and looked away. But the rest of the room was different, warmer, welcoming. Everything was tidy and intentional, yet still home. The candles were flickering hopefully and the bed lay like an open palm, ready to cradle them both.

Santana looked at Brittany, her face glowing with a hopeful smile. Her eyes glistened a little, but Santana didn't worry; a hint of tears was a good thing. It meant Brittany really did want this; she hadn't given up.

Santana shut the door and blocked out the stark hallway light and they settled into the warmth of the candlelight. When her eyes adjusted, she noticed that Brittany looked older. Her face was slimmer and when she smiled, her eyes crinkled just the tiniest bit. Santana knew they weren't seventeen anymore. And yet she felt like a teenager as she took stock of everything the room held. What would she have thought if she had been given a glimpse into this room ten years ago? There was one large bed she shared every night with the woman she loved. There was an engagement ring around her neck. There were framed pictures of people who genuinely cared about her and had been by her side for a decade or more. There was a table dedicated to the hopes of having a child. And there was Brittany. Most miraculously of all, there was Brittany. She knew right then exactly what she wanted to do.

Santana drew Brittany close, their hips and thighs and foreheads pressing together. She breathed her in, trying to figure out what flowers or foods or places could combine to make the same smell. She knew she could never hope to replicate it, though. It would only ever come from Brittany.

She exhaled slowly, setting the pace. "I want it to be just like any other time we make love," she whispered. "Well, any time I make love to you," she amended. "Can we try that?"

Brittany tilted her chin forward and kissed her, nodding into the kiss. That was all the answer Santana needed.

Santana wrapped her arms around Brittany's neck and pressed into their kiss. Their lips held still, frozen together, as if to stop time for just a moment. Santana squeezed her eyes shut, willing her other senses to take in everything around her. As their lips slowly began to move and a gentle tongue nudged between her lips, Santana relished the feeling of Brittany flush against her: warm, moist air on their upper lips and cheeks as it escaped their noses; syrupy, wet whispers between their lips; hands drifting over each other's backs and hips; orange and yellow ripples from the candlelight soaking through her eyelids. She felt overwhelmingly peaceful. She would have been content to just kiss Brittany all night.

They took turns bending forward, their mouths seeking each other out. As their kisses grew deeper, Santana began to remove Brittany's clothing with reverence. First she lifted Brittany's shirt, trailing over the newly exposed skin with her hands, feeling it cool just slightly in the still air of the bedroom. She slipped the shirt off Brittany's shoulders and arms, letting it flutter to the ground. She placed damp, feather-light kisses along Brittany's collarbone as she reached behind her to unclasp her bra. After removing it, she trailed her fingers from Brittany's wrist up to her elbow, across her shoulders and all the way down her arm to the other wrist, watching the skin yield just a bit in the path of her touch.

Brittany's hands found the hem of Santana's shirt and began to pull it up. Santana placed her hands over Brittany's and together they removed her tank, revealing her bare breasts. They pressed together, sighing as they felt their skin fit together. Brittany melted into her, and Santana exhaled in response. The trust Brittany put in her was overwhelming. Santana had never wanted to be so gentle and selfless in her life.

Santana bent her head to kiss Brittany's ear and neck, shifting their breasts against each other, stirring a quiver in her belly. She tried to imagine what it felt like for Brittany as she drew her mouth along Brittany's jaw, lips gentle and wet. She concentrated on the way Brittany leaned into her in response, urging Santana to keep sliding her hands from Brittany's waist up and across her stomach. She reached to untie Brittany's pajamas, giving them just a gentle push before they fell to the ground. Brittany stepped out of them and tilted her jaw into Santana's kiss, a soft exhale parting her lips. Leaving Brittany's underwear on, Santana walked her slowly backwards towards the bed.

When the back of Brittany's knees grazed the mattress, Santana held her fast, pressing their bodies together. Brittany reached for the tie on Santana's pants, but Santana stilled her hands. "Let me," she murmured. "This is all about you."

Santana had every intention of making love to Brittany naked. But she wanted Brittany's consciousness to be in her own body; what felt good, where it ached, where it tingled and vibrated under Santana's touch.

Santana slipped her own pants off and sat on the edge of the bed. She smoothed the sheet next to her, gesturing for Brittany to sit. Brittany did, turning towards Santana with an adoring smile on her face.

"I like this," Brittany said.

Santana smiled back, placing a finger under Brittany's chin to bring their lips together. The kiss was gentle again, pausing with lips just brushing together before she ran her tongue along Brittany's lower lip, taking it between her own and drawing it out.

Brittany smiled. Santana knew she loved when they went slow like this. There were times when this would have been painstaking, her desire burning too hot to feel each tingle in the back of her knees or the coiling of her toes when something felt good. But now those little sensations became overwhelming when attended to and she didn't want either of them to miss anything that brought them pleasure.

"Lie back, sweetheart," Santana whispered.

Brittany slid up the mattress, her hips coming to rest in the center. Santana crawled after her, hovering until Brittany settled on her back. As she came to rest on top of her, Brittany arched her back and tilted her chin up, lips raised in offering.

They kissed for a few minutes before Santana paused to look into Brittany's eyes again. Brittany's face betrayed that she was nervous.

"Hm?" Santana hummed, smiling to encourage Brittany to tell her what was on her mind.

"I really want it to work," Brittany admitted, mumbling as she glanced at the cup on the nightstand. The syringe was filled and leaning against the rim of the cup like a toothbrush.

"I know," Santana murmured. "But pretend it's not here." She kissed Brittany's neck, running her hand up Brittany's side. "It's just you and me."

Brittany let out a nervous breath, trying to focus as Santana ran her hands up and down, slowly massaging Brittany's sides and hips with her fingers and palms. Santana saw Brittany's glance keep flitting to the nightstand, so she reached for the cup, moving it behind the lamp where they couldn't see it.

"Just breathe. Tonight it's just you and me." Santana knew she had been right to try to distract Brittany from their intention, but it wasn't even a distraction now. She truly wanted Brittany to feel all the love and gentleness that made Santana ache whenever Brittany was anything but happy.

"Okay," Brittany whispered. She fixed her gaze on Santana and let out a slow, purposeful breath. "Just you and me."

Santana kissed all up and down Brittany's body, dragging her lips over the trembling skin. She kissed around Brittany's ankles, up her shins to her knees. She kissed her thighs and her hipbones, the freckles on her stomach, and all around her breasts. She kissed her hairline and her ears and her eyelids. She kissed her fingers and her wrists and her elbows. She ran her fingers through Brittany's hair and traced spirals on each shoulder with her index finger.

"Roll over, sweetheart," Santana whispered.

Brittany turned onto her stomach, exhaling as Santana pressed her hands into the muscles at the base of her neck, easing the tension out. Santana worked her way over Brittany's back and down each leg, squeezing gently before giving the same treatment to Brittany's arms. When she had gone over each limb twice, Santana felt Brittany soften, her anxiety no longer tensing her shoulders and lower back. She slid Brittany's underwear down and off before removing her own.

Santana kissed the back of Brittany's neck and whispered, "Sit up." She helped Brittany turn onto her back. Brittany rose lazily as Santana slid to sit behind her, resting against the pillows stacked against the headboard as she pulled Brittany to sit between her legs and lean against her. Brittany lay her head on Santana's shoulder as Santana ran her hands over Brittany's breasts and stomach, smoothing over them, caressing them, pouring her energy into them. After a few minutes, Brittany's hips began to rock up and down and her feet slid through the sheets in anticipation. Santana could see in the dim light that her center was shiny. Holding Brittany's right breast in one hand, she trailed the other down to begin soft, slow strokes through Brittany's folds.

Brittany hummed at the sensation. "Feels good…" she mumbled. She tilted her head back further, her breath starting to accelerate.

Santana smiled. "I want all of you to feel good," she murmured. "Your whole body."

As Santana's free hand roamed over Brittany's stomach and breasts, she could feel her own heartbeat sounding against Brittany, so loud and forceful her chest ached. She wished it were slower, steadier, and stronger. She wished it were all the things she wanted to be for Brittany.

Santana could feel Brittany tensing in her arms. "Close your eyes, sweetheart," she whispered. "Just feel."

Brittany closed her eyes as she tilted her head back. "More…" she murmured.

Santana smiled and leaned forward, pushing Brittany up with her. When she could feel Brittany was sitting of her own accord, she removed her hands and slipped out from behind her, coming to sit right next to Brittany, hips and knees angled toward her. She reached across and cupped Brittany's cheek, easing her back down onto the mattress and sliding on top of her as she brought their lips back together.

Once nestled on top of her, Santana drew her mouth down over Brittany's chin, lips touching the tender spots on Brittany's neck before pressing into her collarbone. She blew cool air over Brittany's nipples before kissing each one, laving it with a flat, soft tongue and drawing it between her lips, giving it just a hint of suction before moving to the other. As Brittany undulated against her, she moved her hand down Brittany's stomach and slipped two fingers inside her. Tonight, more than ever, she felt just how soft Brittany was: slippery, hot, and tender. She slid her fingers in and out a few times, feeling Brittany's hips tilt up to meet her hand. As she felt the tension rising in Brittany's belly, she moved her mouth back up Brittany's chest and neck, over her jaw and back to her lips.

Brittany's mouth was more needy against hers now, tongue pressing between her lips without hesitation. As Santana's strokes deepened, Brittany began to shiver against her. Brittany's shoulders pressed into her, and Santana felt larger than she ever did outside their room, like she could cradle Brittany to her, shielding her entirely. When Brittany was tucked in her arms, Santana sometimes wondered if just a brush of her fingertip would still whatever quaked inside her. For a fleeting moment she could protect Brittany from the world. She was powerful. And yet she would never use that power for anything other than to soothe and comfort Brittany, to show her her own beauty, to coax out fear and replace it with serenity. Brittany had taught her many things, but as she drew Brittany out with her hand, she knew the most important thing she had learned was that gentleness was strength.

Brittany was strong too; her muscles tightened around Santana's fingers, her belly tensing. Keeping her attention on Brittany, Santana knew she had to act swiftly.

"Lift your hips up," she murmured.

Brittany complied, Santana's fingers hooked inside her as she slid a pillow underneath Brittany. Santana kissed Brittany's eyelids, making sure they were closed before she reached for the syringe. She continued moving her hand, trying not to move the mattress or make any noise that would draw Brittany's attention to anything outside herself. Kissing Brittany's neck, she quickened her movement, running her thumb over Brittany's clit as her fingers beckoned up into Brittany's tightening lower belly. She put her mouth against Brittany's, wanting to touch everywhere she could.

Santana felt Brittany clamp down around her fingers, back arching and neck muscles straining. She gasped before she cried out. Santana pulsed her fingers up, watching Brittany's face as she came. The first look was almost of pain, eyebrows cinched together and mouth open but soundless, as if she felt so sharp and ignited she couldn't hold there for long. But in an instant her face softened and spread in a revelation of pleasure as she cried out, eyebrows lifting in surprise as though experiencing water for the first time. Her face shifted back to sharpness for a fleeting moment, but then came relief, her features settling into an amazed smile as she gasped, landing after a vault through the air. And finally, contentment: the embrace that welcomed her home at the end of each day. Awestruck and humbled, Santana held her, suspended and entranced by Brittany's face in the candlelight. After all these years, she was still a marvel to watch.

When the pressure around her knuckles released, Santana slipped the syringe inside Brittany, holding it there against her fingers. Just before Brittany opened her eyes, she slid her fingers out and pushed the piston all the way up, depositing its contents deep inside. She drew the syringe out and dropped it on the floor as she wrapped her arms around Brittany and pressed her lips into Brittany's parted mouth.

She kissed her for a long time, feeling her breathing even out, halting and desperate against her cheek. Once Brittany was calm beneath her, Santana nestled against her side, watching the flush of her face even out.

"That was just how I always imagined it," Brittany whispered, opening her eyes for a moment. A faint smile traced her lips. "Beautiful."

Santana stroked Brittany's cheek with her fingertips as her eyelids fluttered. "Making love to you is always beautiful."

As Brittany's eyes drifted closed, Santana drew a blanket over them, cocooning them together in their afterglow. She grasped Brittany's hand and held it between them, fingers twining together as she murmured, "You and I will always be a family."


	65. Like an Island Rising

**Chapter 65 - Like An Island Rising**

Soundtrack to this chapter isn't a song, just the sound of waves.

**A/N: Thanks to my lovely betas, Mia and terriblemuriel.**

**On another note, I just wanted to put it out there that I'm trying to stay as spoiler-free as possible, so please don't include anything in your PMs or reviews about upcoming episodes. Thank you! Love you all!**

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><p>Police had set up barriers around the perimeter of the Senate hall. Protesters, supporters, onlookers and reporters pressed up against the guardrails, watching as a few people made their way up the stairs. Santana and Elinor showed the security guards their IDs and were permitted to pass through. Denton, Danielle and Marcía were already waiting inside. Elinor gave Santana a confident nod as they made their way up the stairs.<p>

Santana loved the way her heels clicked up the steps. She felt power rising through each impact, running up her legs into her hips, making ripples in her gut. She held her head high, aware of the camera crews on the steps to her left. She overheard a few anchors as they rattled off introductions to the news story.

_Behind me is the state senate hall where, in just a few minutes, representatives from both sides of the issue will be giving their opening statements for Assembly Bill 61, also known as the Ohio Marriage Equality bill…_

_Today may very well see some forward motion of a historic bill for the LGBT population of Ohio…_

_As you can see, many people have gathered here to show their support for both sides of the issue…_

Suddenly Santana heard a gravelly female voice close behind her.

"Isn't it so nice that the only two dykes in Ohio are entitled, hoity-toity lawyers who want to marry each other and pretend to be normal!"

A man scoffed and sneered along with her. "Hey dykes, stop trying to take over our government!"

Santana felt a white-hot flash jolt through her body as she sensed Elinor stiffen and freeze next to her. Her hand tightened around the handle of her briefcase. She squeezed her eyes shut through sheer willpower against the fire that flashed through her. Was this really happening? She turned, calmly, to face the individuals who had just insulted them. She saw a woman with skin and hair the same shade as her own and a white man in jeans and a worn t-shirt standing next to her.

Santana took a deep breath and gave them her most saccharine smile.

"Ms. Kelley," she indicated toward Elinor with her hand, "is an accomplished, intelligent and hard working person, whose partner is lucky to have her; however, our relationship is platonic. But you're right, I _am_ supporting this bill for my own benefit. I want to marry my girlfriend— whom I've been with for ten years now and love _very_ much—and have the same rights as straight married couples. I want my children growing up in a society where one parent doesn't have to legally adopt their own child because their union isn't recognized by the government."

"You people shouldn't be having kids!" the man spat. "It's disgusting."

"Children of gay parents always know they're wanted," Santana retorted, feeling her fist tighten around her briefcase handle. "Research shows they do better in school and have lower rates of drug use. And-"

"Bullshit," the woman interrupted. "You just made that up to further your agenda. You shouldn't be allowed get married; it's just not right."

Santana eyed the woman for a minute, noticing a wedding ring on her left hand, and a matching one on the man's.

"Are you two married, ma'am?" Santana asked.

The woman took the man's hand as if she were afraid Santana would pounce on her. "Five years," she said defensively.

"Hm," Santana nodded, lips pursed in mock interest. She looked at Elinor and her smile grew smug. She turned back to the woman. "Are you aware, ma'am, that until 1967, interracial marriage was illegal in the U.S.? And at the time it was legalized, seventy-five percent of Americans thought it was wrong?"

The woman scowled at Santana. "You have domestic partnerships," she sputtered. "Be happy with what you've got."

Santana eyed her more critically. "Domestic partnerships are a thinly veiled 'separate but equal' policy. As a fellow racial minority, I'm sure you can agree such policies are ineffectual and unjust."

The woman folded her arms across her chest but said nothing.

"Which one of you wears the pants?" sneered the man.

Santana looked down, examining her outfit. "Well, as you can see I _am_ wearing pants today. But I wear dresses and skirts all the time, and as far as I can tell, neither one has any impact on the dynamics of my personal or professional relationships. But thank you for your concern. I look forward to seeing this bill passed through the state senate to the governor."

Without pausing for a response, Santana turned back to climb the final few steps and enter the building. Elinor was still frozen on the steps, looking dazed. Santana felt the urge to usher her inside, but knew she couldn't put her hand or arm on her while the cameras were rolling. Instead, Santana cleared her throat and slowed her pace until she could see Elinor following her in her peripheral vision. Santana was glad the doors were propped open, because it meant she wouldn't have to open the doors for her.

Once they were inside, Santana huffed, letting out the steam she had kept in outside.

"Who was that?" Elinor asked, incredulous.

"Just some assholes," Santana dismissed, heels clicking through the hall.

"No, I mean you."

"What?"

"I have _never_ seen you respond so calmly to someone slinging insults at you," Elinor said, eyes wide over an incredulous smile.

"I guess," Santana said, a hint of a proud smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

"What changed?"

Santana shrugged, her shoulders bouncing a little bit with happiness at how far she'd come. "I guess I know I need to be an example."

"Look at you, taking on the world…" Elinor smiled.

"Hardly—just the little corner of it known as Ohio." Santana reached for the door to the hall. "Ready?" she grinned.

Elinor nodded. "Bring it on."

Santana took a breath, puffing up her chest under her blazer as she opened the door.

* * *

><p>"Honey, I'm ho-ome!" Santana sang as she shut the door and set down her briefcase. She couldn't wait to see Brittany.<p>

Brittany came bounding out of the bedroom, her bright-eyed expression reminding Santana of their cheerleading days.

"Hey baby!" Brittany exclaimed, colliding with Santana as she hugged her. "I saw!"

Santana was confused as she was jolted back a few inches. "Saw what?"

"Your big moment on the steps this morning!"

"My what?"

"When those jerks said mean things to you and you calmly handed their asses back to them. It's all over the news. I'm so proud."

"I was on the local _news_?" Santana asked, amazed.

Sure, there had been cameras around, but they were there to interview the people gathered outside and to give information about the bill, not broadcast her impromptu speech.

"No one told you?" Brittany tilted her head and grinned.

"No…" Santana frowned. It wasn't like Brittany to be an unreliable source of information. She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone, seeing a dozen missed calls and text messages. "Oh, damn, my phone was on silent all day! I haven't checked it."

"The bill is getting all kinds of great press!" Brittany bubbled. "You looked so hot and you sounded so smart."

"Well – I – wow! I didn't think they'd air that!" Santana sputtered with pride.

"How could they not? You did so good baby," Brittany smiled, tucking Santana's hair behind her ears before giving her a particularly wet welcome-home kiss. "And it made me feel so special that you mentioned me."

"Of course. This is for you and me," Santana shrugged, kissing her once more on the cheek for good measure.

"And other people too, right?" Brittany teased, scrunching up her nose.

"Yeah, them too," Santana dismissed with a grin, pulling Brittany back in for a deeper, wetter kiss.

Brittany brought her arms down and took a step back. "So do you want to watch it? I have it on the DVR for you."

"Not right now. Later," Santana said, waving her hand. "Guess what today is?" she lilted, raising an eyebrow.

Brittany's eyebrows went up in an apprehensive grimace. She knew what day it was. "The day you totally kicked ass on the local news?"

"Nooo…" Santana drawled as she reached into her purse and pulled out a pregnancy test. She presented it to Brittany with a flourish.

Brittany's mouth shifted back and forth a few times. "Let's take it tomorrow," she dismissed. "I just want to enjoy right now with you, my _celebrity_ fiancée." She tried to sound playful.

Santana's smile faded. She knew what Brittany was doing. "You're trying to distract me," she said. It wasn't an accusation; in fact, she sounded a little hurt. "Don't you want to find out?"

Brittany bit her lip and nodded. "But I don't want to ruin a good day." She tucked her lip back between her teeth, her eyes downcast.

Santana set the pregnancy test down on the hallway table and stepped forward, taking both of Brittany's hands in hers. "Britt… no matter what that test says, it's a good day. I have you, the love of my life. And I know _someday_ we'll have a baby. If it's in nine months, great. If it's in nine years, that's great too. I just… I really want to find out," Santana said, dipping her knees, giving Brittany a pleading smile.

Brittany's lip slipped from between her teeth as an uncertain smile crept across her face.

"Will you take it?" asked Santana, looking up through her eyelashes, "Pleeease?" she batted them.

Brittany's smile turned bashful at Santana's playful tone. She bit the other side of her lip. She dipped her chin, then raised it and gave a hesitant nod.

Santana smiled and reached for the test, opening the box and unwrapping the white plastic stick. Brittany took a deep breath and reached for Santana's free hand. They walked down the hall together. Santana squeezed Brittany's hand as Brittany reached for the doorknob of the bathroom, opening the door. Santana presented the white stick to Brittany confidently. Brittany paused on the threshold, looking back at Santana, who mouthed 'I love you.' Brittany mouthed 'I love you too' and gave her a peck on the lips before stepping into the bathroom and unbuttoning her pants.

Santana was nervous, but mostly hopeful as she leaned against the doorframe. She crossed her arms so she wouldn't fidget and forced any visible hint of anxiety down, willing her hope to ignite into the desired result. She smiled, wanting to be her most calm, collected self for Brittany. She needed to be prepared for any result, any reaction.

Brittany peed on the stick and rebuttoned her pants. "Three minutes," she exhaled, straightening her torso as she washed her hands and took a deep breath.

"Three minutes," Santana echoed with a confident nod. She looked at her watch, then felt silly—it had no second hand or hash marks to delineate minutes, and Brittany didn't wear a watch. But there was a digital clock in the living room.

"Let's wait in the living room," Santana offered as she extended her hand to Brittany, who was drying her hands on the towel. They walked hand in hand toward the living room. Brittany's hand was cool where their fingers intertwined and their palms pressed together.

"I don't want to hold it," Brittany muttered, offering the test stick to Santana, "It's making me nervous."

"'Kay," said Santana, reaching across her body to take it.

Brittany's eyes widened as she sighed loudly, as if wondering why had she agreed to do this tonight. But Santana was calm and confident; she wasn't going to let disappointment shake her tonight. She felt unusually patient.

Brittany, on the other hand, was a wreck. Wanting to calm her, Santana had an idea. Instead of sitting on the couch, Santana grabbed a pillow and placed it on the ground. She sat in front of it meditation-style, placing the pregnancy test in the center and gesturing for Brittany to sit across from her on the other side. Brittany gave her a nervous, amused smile. Santana laid her hands on the pillow on either side of the test, palms up as Brittany settled on the ground and grasped her hands. Santana hoped some of her confidence and warmth would flow through their handclasp and settle Brittany's nerves.

Santana glanced at the clock, then back to Brittany. "Okay, close your eyes, baby," she said softly. "I want you to imagine something for me."

"Don't make me imagine I'm pregnant, Santana, that's too much right now," Brittany pleaded, eyes still open.

"I won't," Santana soothed. "I want to try this thing one of my law professors used to do before our exams. It's kind off woo-woo, but... just give it a try. Close your eyes. No peeking at the clock."

Brittany sighed and closed her eyes. She settled into the carpet a little more, holding Santana's hands desperately.

Santana closed her eyes and inhaled, trying to smooth out her voice. She wanted to lull Brittany into the warmth she felt when she thought about their future family. Her words were gentle, sounding low in her chest, yet seeming to float up out of her.

"I want you to imagine you're in a boat, one of those little inflatable ones. It's just big enough that you can lie down without feeling cramped. You're lying on your back, and you feel how the water makes the plastic bottom of the boat under you much cooler than the rest of the boat, which is hot because it's summer. It's warm out, and you're wearing your favorite swimsuit with the polka dots. The water makes the plastic beneath you rise and fall all up and down your body. You feel loose as you let yourself ride the little waves."

Santana let a few moments pass, listening to Brittany's breathing slow. She made her voice even gentler.

"Your skin is prickling a little bit, but the coolness of the water underneath you keeps you comfy. All you can hear is the water and a few birds flying around. The sun is bright, but you've got dark sunglasses on so it doesn't hurt your eyes. You don't have anywhere to be— just here, letting the ocean rock you. Everything around you is exactly like it's supposed to be."

Santana let the imagery wrap around Brittany for a few moments. She could feel Brittany's hands loosen in hers as Brittany imagined the scene she was painting.

Santana continued. "The waves feel so peaceful under the boat, lifting and holding you… rocking and dipping you. You feel a little sleepy. The sun is getting lower in the sky. You don't know how long you've been floating out here. It doesn't seem like very long, but maybe you dozed off for a little while. You don't feel sunburned, so it couldn't have been too long. Maybe the sun is just gentle today."

Santana opened her eyes just long enough to glance at the clock before shutting them again. She decided to make the scene she was describing tailored to Brittany as she came to the end.

"You think maybe you'd like to go back to the beach and get ready to go home, but you're not sure how. You don't remember the boat having any oars. You keep your eyes closed and start feeling around on the bottom of the boat, wondering if there's anything that can help you get back to the beach. Your right hand touches something— someone's hand. It doesn't scare you. You were almost expecting it to be there. You grasp the hand, and just by the shape of it, the feel of the skin, and the way it fits in yours, you know it's mine."

Santana heard Brittany let out a little puff of air as she smiled and a felt a soft pulse squeeze her hands. Santana squeezed back.

"… And I say, 'Are you ready to go home now, Britt?' and you nod. And I say 'Okay. Open your eyes.'"

Santana opened her eyes, looking directly at Brittany. A peaceful smile graced Brittany's face from chin to temples.

"Open your eyes, Britt."

Brittany's eyes fluttered open and Santana's heart skipped a beat. Brittany had never looked so beautiful. It was as if she had just stepped out of the image Santana had created for her; she was calm, happy, and radiant.

Santana's chest rose as she inhaled and Brittany mirrored her. Holding their breath, their eyes fell on the pregnancy test lying on the pillow between them. One heartbeat passed.

Their hands squeezed together, knuckles white, their clenched shoulders willing their torsos not to burst. As soon as they could exhale, cries filled the air. Brittany clutched her stomach for a moment before lunging across the pillow at Santana, wrapping her arms around her neck. Santana was jolted back at the force of Brittany driving into her, but she clenched her abdomen to stay upright, supporting both of them. Brittany's breathing turned to gasping as she grabbed at Santana's shoulders and back, feeling she couldn't get close enough. Santana wrapped her arms around Brittany's waist, running her hands firmly up and down Brittany's back.

"Santana… Santana…" Brittany chanted into Santana's ear. Santana could hear her tears as she choked her name out over and over.

"Britt…" Santana kept clutching Brittany's back. She felt her throat tighten as she tried to speak. "Oh my god, Britt…" She squeezed Brittany to her chest as tight as she could.

Brittany grabbed the sides of Santana's head, pulling back to kiss Santana with such force that Santana's abdomen gave out and she fell onto her back, bringing Brittany down on top of her. Brittany kissed her feverishly, alternating between furious pecks over her cheeks and forehead and long, wet smooches on her lips that were so forceful they hurt. Brittany moved her hands to clasp Santana's, each finger locking together with its partner. Santana used her leg to tilt her hips to the side, rocking them once before rolling Brittany onto the floor, being careful not to lie on top of her. Santana lay on her side, leaning over Brittany, elated and frantic for air.

"Britt," she panted as she broke away.

Brittany looked up at her in desperate adoration as she pressed their clasped hands against her stomach.

Santana could only find enough voice to whisper: "Britt, we're-"

"Pregnant," Brittany murmured tearfully. Her face scrunched up with tears, nodding as a wave of ecstatic sobbing renewed itself.

Santana sat up on her knees, pulling Brittany's shirt up so she could see and touch the pale skin of her stomach. She bent down and pressed her lips to the flesh over and over again. It was still flat, but it seemed to swell with energy and warmth against Santana's mouth. Her kisses were gentle and euphoric as she traced a spiral over the plane of Brittany's stomach. Brittany's hand tangled in Santana's hair as Santana's kisses left little damp patches across her abdomen, the peach fuzz of her skin prickling up at the sensation.

When Santana had covered every inch of Brittany's stomach with kisses, she lay back down. The engagement ring on Santana's necklace pressed into Brittany's cheek as Brittany curled into her chest.

Brittany was dazed and overjoyed as she whispered, "Oh my god, it's actually happening… we're having a baby." She snuggled deeper into Santana, her warm breath wisping across Santana's chest as she sniffled.

Santana drew Brittany to her chest as tightly as she could. As she held her there, trembling with joy, she was convinced her ribcage was too small to hold everything that had burst within it in the last sixty seconds.


	66. Wonder

**Chapter 66: Wonder**

**The soundtrack for this chapter is "Wonderwall" but NOT the Oasis version - check out the UGA Noteworthy a Cappella version on Youtube. The link to download it is on my page and on my Tumblr. Enjoy!**

**As always, thank you to my betas, Mia, terriblemuriel, and my proofreader Emmas409.**

**And now, without further ado, my longest chapter ever - 11k+ words! I hope it was worth waiting two weeks.**

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><p>Santana took to always sleeping as the 'big spoon' now. The crook of her hips became a harbor to protect the tiny life budding within Brittany. She couldn't get enough of laying pressed against her; she found herself getting ready for bed earlier, not even pretending to be tired. She just wanted to savor laying together a little while longer before they fell asleep.<p>

At the end of the first week of knowing they were expecting, they were in bed at nine-o'clock, Santana's arm wrapped over Brittany's waist.

"I feel all warm inside," Brittany hummed, snuggling back into Santana's hips. "Maybe that's why they call it having a bun in the oven. I feel like I swallowed a little piece of the sun."

Santana grinned. "Maybe we should name her Sunny, like the baby from the Lemony Snicket books."

"We don't know it's a girl," Brittany said, sighing in mock irritation. "But I do love Lemony Snicket."

"So how about Violet?" Santana kept playing, lightly tickling just under Brittany's bellybutton. "Or Klaus, if we want to confuse everyone about our child's ethnic background."

Brittany let out a sleepy giggle. "I don't want to talk about names yet. I think we should wait until we meet our baby to name it," she mumbled into her pillow, clasping Santana's hand against her stomach.

"Really?" Santana asked in surprise, lifting her head off the pillow an inch. Picking names was one of the many things she was looking forward to doing with Brittany over the coming months.

"Uh huh," Brittany nodded. "We have to make sure the name fits."

The idea seemed awfully impulsive to Santana. She liked to have everything planned out. She was already wondering when they would start working on the birth plan; where Brittany would deliver, if Brittany would have an epidural, what her _own _job would be - and that was eight months away! Selecting a name - something that would be with their child for the rest of its life - in the spur of the moment left too much to chance. The image of a drugged and exhausted Brittany picking a name for their baby flashed through her mind.

"Can I veto anything super weird?" Santana asked, trying to be delicate about it.

"Of course," Brittany assured. "We have to agree. We won't give our baby a name one of us hates like Gilford Constantine Horace or Ermengarde Elektra Rainbow."

Santana chuckled, relaxing a little into the bed. "Shoot, how did you know that's what I wanted to name it?" she laughed. "Well, okay. But I'll probably make a list of names I like in my head."

"Of course you will. But let's not decide until the baby is born."

Santana closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of Brittany's back against her front. Brittany seemed just a hint warmer than usual. Or maybe just closer. Santana pressed a kiss into the back of her neck.

Brittany spoke softly into her pillow again, "I want to wait until the baby's born to find out if it's a boy or girl, too."

Santana's eyes went wide in alarm. "Wait, _what_?" she asked, her head jumping off the pillow again. She hadn't even considered not finding out the sex. "_Why_?"

"I like surprises," Brittany shrugged.

"That's a pretty big surprise, B..." Santana said, eyes still wide. "Why don't you want to know?"

"There's no reason we need to know. We'll be happy either way."

"Of course, but..." Santana trailed off, unable to come up with a concrete reason to find out the sex ahead of time. Well, at least a reason Brittany would buy. Grasping for straws, she pleaded, "Don't you want to know what color to paint the nursery?"

"We already decided on blue with clouds on the ceiling."

"But... what about everything else?" Santana pressed.

Brittany's voice was patient as she explained, "If we know it's a boy or girl, we start getting all these ideas about who our baby will be before he or she is even born. I just want our baby to be who he or she is and not feel pushed into liking sports or being a princess or anything. It should just have a blank slate."

Santana mulled this over for a minute. Of _course_ she wanted her baby to be its own person, to come into the world without any expectations or labels put on it. But she didn't know how to prepare a blank slate for someone so important. Someone who, in her mind, was already a prince or princess.

"Well... " Santana said, resting her head again. "I _do_ want our baby to just be who he or she is... but not knowing is going to be really hard for me. I'm impatient enough as it is." She pulled Brittany closer into the nook of her hips. "But I think I can get behind the blank slate."

"Good," Brittany smiled into her pillow.

"Is there _anything_ we can decide ahead of time?" Santana wondered. She needed to be tethered to something specific. "Godparents maybe?"

"That's a good idea," Brittany murmured. "Baby's backup plan."

The thought of anything happening to them that would leave their baby parentless was gut-wrenching, so of course Santana already had a plan.

But Brittany spoke first. "I was thinking of asking my sister, but she's a little young. What do you think?"

"Yeah, I thought about her too, but she hasn't even graduated college yet, and she gets to be the aunt anyway. I want to ask Elinor. She'd take really good care of our baby if something happened to us."

"She would," Brittany nodded, her face whispering against the pillow. "And we know she wants kids. Let's ask her as soon as the first trimester's over." Brittany sighed in contentment and burrowed into Santana's hips. "I love you, Mama S."

Santana closed her eyes and grinned. _Mama_. "Love you too, Mama B."

* * *

><p>The joyful tightness in Santana's ribcage hadn't subsided all week. Keeping the pregnancy a secret felt <em>impossible<em>, but she had been cautioned that it was bad luck to tell anyone before the second trimester. She begrudgingly admitted that she was a little superstitious - about _this_, at least. Broken mirrors and black cats and walking under ladders was all rubbish, but after all the anguish of getting pregnant, she wasn't about to do anything that could possibly jinx the pregnancy. So she just let her coworkers shoot her questioning looks when they saw that her attitude was uncharacteristically enthusiastic and cheerful.

Thankfully, she did get to tell _someone_: a week after finding out Brittany was pregnant, Santana swung by Carlos's hotel to inform him that they wouldn't be needing any more deposits. She was relieved; not only would he be glad to be released of his duties, she would be able to tell someone just how _happy_ she was - and why.

She walked into the lobby of the hotel the following Sunday morning. She was jittery with joy, nervously dragging her engagement ring across its chain. She looked around and spotted Carlos standing behind the front desk, focused and typing into the computer. She walked right up, donning the attitude and swagger of a high-end patron of the hotel.

"I have a message for Carlos Lopez," she said with a haughty flip of her hair, barely containing her bright smile. "I want to inform him that his contributions have been much appreciated but that they will, happily, no longer be needed."

Carlos looked up from the computer and a huge grin spread across his face. Santana beamed when she saw his expression: he was genuinely joyful and proud. He ran around the counter and pulled her into a crushing bear hug. He rocked her from side to side and cheered, "Congrats, Mamacita!"

Santana stepped back, unable to control her proud smile and laughter.

"How is she doing?" Carlos hissed, lowering his voice as he glanced around the lobby.

"She's doing great. _So_ great. We're just... on top of the world!" Santana tried, but failed, to keep her voice down.

Carlos hugged her again. "I'm _so_ happy for you, Santana. For both of you."

"Yeah, well, I figured you'd be happy to be released from your duties," Santana shrugged, trying to regain her composure. "So... you know. Thanks."

"I was honored to be asked. I'm glad you're carrying on the Lopez family genes, you know? And what better way than by starting the Lopez-_Pierce_ family? Brittany's a catch."

Santana nodded, tucking her lip between her teeth for a moment. Hearing Carlos - a blood relative - talk about her and Brittany as a legitimate family brought her back down from her euphoria. While on the one hand, it made her overflow with pride, it also reminded her that her own parents probably wouldn't jump for joy when she told them. But still, Carlos saw her and Brittany as a _family_.

"I don't even know how to begin thanking you," she said, her smile fading as she glanced around the lobby. "I mean... what you've given us?" she whispered. "It's the most generous thing anyone's ever done for me. Or for her. And since you know how the rest of the Lopezes are... it means the world." Santana felt her throat tighten and she blinked, looking away as she fought back tears.

"It's no problem, Santana. Hey, no, don't get all weepy on me. I don't want Brittany thinking I made you cry," he said with a playful grin, pinching her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

Santana nodded and took a deep breath. She pushed her shoulders back, holding her head high. "Well, she asked me to pick up a few things at the store, so I've gotta go do that. But I just had to come tell you in person."

"Of course. I'm glad you did. Ay, congratulations!" He gave her another hug, squeezing extra tight.

"Thank you," she strained again as her lungs were crushed in his hug.

"You're welcome," Carlos said, grinning again. He gave her another pat on the shoulder as he released her.

Santana turned to go and as she did, Carlos called after her, "Don't get shy about asking for the next one, Santana!"

Santana felt heat creep up her cheeks as she giggled and walked out of the hotel into the August morning sunshine.

* * *

><p>A week after the test came back positive, the morning sickness started. It was worst at night, so Santana had to keep multiple dinner options on hand, making sure nothing was too spicy or fragrant. At first it wasn't so bad that Brittany was constantly vomiting, but Santana still felt helpless when Brittany was too dizzy to stand or had a hard time finding foods that she could stomach. The nausea grew worse over time, and most nights Brittany was too sick to do much besides watch TV or try to sleep. Santana found herself hovering over Brittany as she lay on the couch or bed, anxiously offering to bring her water or crackers or a damp washcloth.<p>

The morning sickness wasn't the only thing that changed. Brittany, who had always been the more levelheaded of the two of them, suddenly cried at the strangest things. She cried when she discovered there was no ice left in the freezer. She cried when she saw an advertisement for dolphin-free tuna. She cried when Santana printed out an article she found online that compared the size of the embryo to a sweet pea. One time Santana was thirty minutes later than usual coming home after having picked up a jar of olives Brittany requested. When she walked in, Brittany was sobbing on the couch.

"Sweetheart, what's _wrong_?" Santana gasped, darting over to her, panic-stricken. "What happened? Is everything okay?"

"I thought you crashed your car and _died!_" Brittany wailed.

Santana exhaled as a giant wave of relief washed over her. She sat on the couch and took Brittany in her arms, nestling Brittany's head on her shoulder.

"Why didn't you call if you were so upset?" Santana cooed, rubbing Brittany's back as Brittany sniffled into her neck.

"Because you were _dead_!" Brittany sobbed. "You wouldn't have picked up!"

Santana bit down a smile. "Do I look dead?"

"…No," Brittany whimpered.

"I'm not dead. I was just picking up olives for you. You called me a few hours ago and asked me to get them, remember?"

"Yeah… but next time could you call and tell me where you are?"

"Of course. Silly me…" Santana drew Brittany closer to her chest.

"I just really like being with you. All the time."

It wasn't always comical, either. One night Brittany started quivering while they sat at the table, trying not to cry over her dinner. She trembled from head to toe, vibrating with sadness.

"What is it?" Santana asked, pausing with her spoon halfway to her mouth.

"I… I don't know." Brittany looked perplexed and frightened.

Had Brittany's eyes not been so sad and scared, Santana might have smiled adoringly. But instead she got up, stood behind Brittany's chair and leaned down, hovering with her arms wrapped around Brittany's shoulders. She felt Brittany trying to relax into her, but she still shook. She wished she could do _anything_ to make it better. Santana closed her eyes and took long, slow breaths, willing calmness to flow through her arms into Brittany. She stood there like that for ten minutes, until Brittany's chest released with a few tears and a long, shuddering breath, deflating.

"Do you want to lie down?" Santana asked.

Brittany nodded and Santana put her arm around her waist as they walked to the bedroom. Santana laid her down, slipping off Brittany's shoes and drawing the blanket around them. Whatever Brittany needed, Santana could do with more patience and reverence than she ever thought herself capable of.

"What if we lose it?" Brittany asked, clutching Santana's hand against her stomach.

Santana's own stomach tightened at the thought. Seeing Brittany so unsteady was unsettling. She knew it was possible they could lose the baby, but she focused on calming Brittany down, knowing it was the only thing she could possibly influence.

"Shhh…" Santana hushed, nuzzling Brittany's neck with her nose. "Shh… everything's fine right now," she whispered. "I know our baby's safe with you. We have our first well-check next week. I'll hold both of you every night until then, and every night after."

Brittany seemed to relax a little into Santana's embrace, but her grip on Santana's hand was still tight as she took several deep breaths.

* * *

><p>Elinor had been eying Santana suspiciously since Santana had walked into the coffee shop ten minutes late. Whenever Santana's phone buzzed, Santana picked it up immediately, and when Brittany called ten minutes into their visit, she darted outside to answer. Elinor frowned at her, crossing her arms as Santana sat back down in her seat.<p>

"So how are things since you moved in with Danielle and the kids?" Santana asked, locking and unlocking her phone. She was trying to bite back a grin, but it was hard. She could feel Elinor glaring at her, so she set the phone on the table and wrapped her hands around her mocha. She tried to focus on Elinor's story, but she was quickly distracted by a little blond girl, no older than three, clutching two fingers of her mother's hand as they ordered chocolate milk and muffins.

"Santana?" Elinor tried to get her attention. "Did you hear what I said?"

Santana shook her head to clear out the distraction. "Sorry. I went somewhere else for a second."

"Clearly," Elinor muttered, a smug grin creeping across her face as she sat back and folded her arms over her chest.

"What were you saying?" Santana asked, leaning forward across the table.

"It's not important. When are you going to tell me your big news?" Elinor asked with a smirk.

Santana swallowed and looked to the side. She thought briefly about telling Elinor the truth, but didn't. "No big news. How's your coffee?"

"Bullshit. Brittany's pregnant," Elinor said matter-of-factly.

Santana looked away, trying not to smile. "She just… she's, um…"

"Pregnant. You're so fucking obvious I'm pretty sure that guy in line over there with the fedora and the hacky-sac can tell just by looking at you. Plus you canceled plans with Danielle and me last weekend because she 'ate a bad salad.' A salad? _Really_, Santana? You're losing your edge."

"Hey!" Santana defended. "I am not losing my edge!"

At that moment Santana's phone buzzed on the table and Elinor grabbed it before Santana could react. Elinor looked at the screen and crowed, "I knew it!"

Santana grabbed the phone from her. On the screen was a text from Brittany that said:_I signed us up for childbirth classes at OSU Medical Center, Saturdays at ten. XOXOXOXO, Britt._

Santana beamed and covered her face with her hands. "She is!" she admitted in a whisper she could barely control. "She's pregnant!"

Elinor shrieked and slapped her palms on the table. "You can never keep a happy secret from me!" she proclaimed.

Santana pursed her lips and nodded in admission.

"How long have you known!" Elinor demanded.

"She conceived in July and we found out it took at the beginning of August."

"So she's a total of eight weeks," Elinor deduced.

"The fetus is about this big," Santana grinned, showing half an inch between her thumb and index finger. "There's this chart we found that compares the size of the baby to fruits and vegetables. Last week it was Baby Blueberry and this week it's Baby Raspberry."

"Aww, _Santana_!" Elinor cooed, her excitement mounting as she got up from her chair. "Congratulations!" She walked around the table and wrapped Santana in a big hug. "I knew it would happen sooner or later!" she smiled, pulling away. "So how is she? Is she sick a lot? Crying, tired, happy, spacey? I want to know everything!" Elinor's eyes were wide with excitement as she sat back in her chair.

"She's doing _great_. We had our first prenatal appointment two weeks ago and the doctor said mom and baby are both in good shape. Britt gets sick sometimes, especially at night, but she's so tough. Sometimes she gets weepy or scared, but mostly she's just happy and doing her thing. I'm _so_ proud of her; she makes it to almost all her classes, studies hard, and she's happier than I've seen her in a long time. She makes me feel so close to her; when she's not feeling sick she just wants to be touching somehow, all the time. Like even if we're doing the dishes she stands close so our shoulders touch."

Elinor clucked her tongue. "That's adorable. Aw, I can't wait to see her! How are _you_ doing with it? Are you freaking out?"

"No," Santana smiled, taking a sip of her drink. "I just never want to leave her alone, you know? Not even for five minutes. Like just now I was thinking about what to make for dinner and wondering if she'll feel like eating at all and what we could do if she doesn't feel too sick..." Santana looked at the table, seeming to stare through it as she smiled. "We have this scrapbook we're making, putting pictures and little reminders of all the things we did together before we had kids to show our baby someday. We call it the 'Before You Were Born Book.' Every month we take a picture of my hands on her belly and put it in the book."

"Santana Lopez has officially gone domestic," Elinor declared. "Your teenage self would be horrified."

Santana took a sip of her mocha, trying to hide her stupid grin with her cup. "My teenage self wouldn't even let herself dream about this."

* * *

><p>Santana was glad she was seated between Elinor and Vickie at Brittany's graduation from nursing school two weeks later. Not because she didn't love Gordon and Hayley and Danielle, but because she knew Elinor and Vickie would pretend not to notice if she cried. Not that she was going to cry.<p>

But as she heard Brittany's name called and saw Brittany step gracefully up onto the stage, she swallowed to keep her throat from closing. The applause in the auditorium echoed around her and she felt almost surreal; her chest was so full and tight with pride it seemed to force tears out of her eyes to make room for everything she was trying to contain. Santana's face hurt from smiling as Brittany extended her right hand to shake the Dean's. As Brittany walked a few more steps and extended her hand again to accept her diploma, she subtly put her left hand on her stomach and looked in Santana's direction. Santana choked back a sob and put her hand to her mouth, Brittany's silhouette blurring through her tears in the auditorium light. Brittany walked down the stairs on the other side of the stage, beaming as she walked back to her seat.

When the final speech had been given and all the graduates and their loved ones rose to begin mingling, Santana made a beeline for Brittany. She always squeezed her around the shoulders these days, pressing her stomach into Brittany's, ever cautious and gentle. Nuzzling her face into Brittany's neck, Santana took in Brittany's scent, her breath hitching a few times as she stifled her tears.

"I'm so proud of you, sweetheart," she mumbled, closing her eyes. "_So_ proud."

Santana felt Brittany's cheek shift into a smile against her temple as Brittany gave her an extra squeeze. "Thank you," she murmured back.

"Baby Strawberry is proud of you too," Santana added.

Brittany giggled into Santana's hair, squeezing her closer.

Once Brittany had hugged her family and Elinor and Danielle and a few of her classmates, Nicole came bounding up and practically tackled her, diploma in hand. Santana bristled; Nicole's enthusiasm was a bit too rough for her taste while Brittany was in the first trimester. Looking around, it dawned on Santana that Nicole was the only adult in their group who didn't know. Of course Brittany had told her parents and her sister, and Elinor had figured it out and undoubtedly told Danielle, since they had become sort of a package deal. So that left Nicole in the dark, which became immediately apparent.

"C'mon Britt, let's go get toasted on champagne at the reception!" Nicole chirped.

"Oh, no thanks," Brittany said with a tired smile. "My parents are taking us out to dinner and then we're gonna go home. I think I might study for the license exam for a little bit..."

"Um, _no_ way!" Nicole objected, taking Brittany's hand and trying to drag her towards the reception. "Girl, you need to take a break from studying and celebrate. Come out with me and Ben tonight, it'll be fun!"

Ben was Nicole's newest boyfriend who, from the frat-boy look of him, Santana wanted nothing to do with. That, combined with Nicole's blatant exclusion of Santana from the invitation, piqued Santana's annoyance.

"Thanks for the offer, Nicole, but Brittany and I are going to celebrate in our own way," Santana said, putting her arm around Brittany's shoulder with a saccharine smile followed by a purposeful wink.

"Oh," Nicole said, looking back and forth, suddenly awkward. "Okay. Well, uh, have fun, party pooper," she teased, sticking her tongue out. "Are we still on for studying for the license exam this weekend?" she asked as she walked away.

Brittany nodded and waved as Nicole ran back to her boyfriend.

And hour later their group sat around a table in a nice restaurant, Brittany and Santana seated in the center of one side of the oblong table surrounded by the Pierces, Elinor, and Danielle.

"You're taking your license exam soon?" Danielle asked, tilting her head with an incredulous smile.

"Yup. Two weeks," Brittany said, her eyes flashing with excitement and anticipation.

"That's so much to take on!" Danielle remarked, reaching for a slice of bread from the basket in the middle of the table. "With everything else," she winked.

"Britt's pretty amazing," Santana said, rubbing Brittany's arm.

"Well, actually, I kind of _have_ to get my license soon..." Brittany said, "Because I got a job."

_"What job?"_

_"Since when?"_

_"Why didn't you tell us earlier?"_

Santana grinned, eager to see the reactions of their family and friends. Brittany had told her a week before, and like all their other happy news, she'd had a hard time keeping her mouth shut, but somehow she had managed.

Brittany's smile widened. "It's a temporary job, maybe five months tops. I'm doing in-home hospice care."

A few frowns appeared around the table, accompanied by some pensive humming and nodding.

"Won't that be hard though?" Hayley asked. "Spending time with someone you know will die?"

"We all die eventually," Brittany shrugged, taking a piece of bread from the basket. "I might as well help make it graceful. And I like the idea of working with someone at the end of his life while I prepare for the beginning of someone else's," she said, patting her tummy. "It feels... spiritual in a way."

Their family and friends smiled at her.

"Well, we're all proud of you, Britt-Bee," Gordon said, lifting his chin and his glass of water. "Of _everything_ you're doing."

The group raised their glasses in agreement and cheered before dividing up into smaller conversations for the rest of the meal.

As they were leaving the restaurant, Santana caught Brittany's elbow and gestured toward Elinor with her head as Elinor slung her purse over her shoulder and took Danielle's hand. Brittany grinned and nodded and they followed closely behind them outside. Elinor and Danielle turned to say goodbye.

"Hey El, got a minute?" Santana asked with a mischievous smile.

Elinor glanced at Danielle and replied, "Um, sure."

"It'll just be a second," Santana assured, her smile widening.

Brittany beckoned for Elinor to follow them around the corner of the restaurant. Elinor gave them an amused frown but followed, patting Danielle on the shoulder to say _I'll be right back_.

Once they had rounded the corner, Santana put her arm around Brittany's back and Brittany put her hand on her still-flat stomach, beaming.

"What's up?" Elinor asked, glancing back and forth between them, not sure if she should smile.

"We have a favor to ask," Santana began. "We know you've got your hands full with Danielle's kids now, and you can totally think about it for a while if you want, but we were wondering if-"

"We want you to be the baby's godmother!" Brittany blurted, bouncing a little bit.

Elinor's hands flew to her cheeks, trying to contain her elated smile. "Of course!" she gasped. "Of course!" she repeated, stepping toward them. She seemed to not know who to hug first, so she put one arm around each of them, squeezing their shoulders together. "Oh my gosh, I was _hoping_ you'd ask me!" she gushed, "Of _course_ I want to be the godmother. I'm so honored..."

"Well, you're the best person for the job," Santana assured, patting Elinor's back. "We know you'd take great care of our baby if something happened to us."

Elinor pulled back, eyes wide, "Nothing's going to happen to either of you, but I'm definitely in!" She looked at Brittany's stomach, then tentatively reached out to pat it. "Auntie Elinor's going to spoil you rotten, little one."

* * *

><p>Santana's phone vibrated against her desk and rang so loudly that she jumped out of her seat. The intention behind turning the ringer up as high as it would go was to make sure she never missed a call from Brittany, but the <em>effect<em> was that every time it rang she had a minor heart attack.

"Yeah?" Santana asked, her tone urgent as she picked up.

"Guess what, baby!" Brittany crowed on the other end of the line. "I just got home and brought in the mail and- I passed my license exam!"

Santana hopped a little in her chair, her face tightening in a grin. "I _knew_ you would!" she cried. "Congrats, sweetheart!"

"I'm so _happy_!" Brittany bubbled. "I finally stopped feeling sick all the time and school's done and now I don't have to worry about this..." she sighed in contentment. "And I couldn't have asked for a more supportive partner the whole time," she added, calming. "You've been amazing."

"Aw, but you did all the work, B," Santana gushed. "That license is yours, not anyone else's."

"Well... I want to celebrate!" Brittany chirped. "Are you free tonight?"

"Of course," Santana said. "What do you want to do? Are you up for going out to dinner?"

"I was thinking of inviting Nicole over for dinner and dessert," Brittany suggested. "She found out she passed yesterday. Plus we haven't told her about the baby!"

Santana's excitement dulled with her smile. She wasn't particularly fond of Nicole - in fact, she found Nicole to be excruciatingly annoying. But this was Brittany's victory, so Brittany got to choose the celebration. Santana was glad they were talking on the phone so Brittany couldn't see her bite her lip to prevent herself from groaning in dread. She tried to sound enthusiastic as she replied, "Sure, sounds good. We can all celebrate together. I'll even pick up a cake."

"Ice cream cake!" Brittany prompted.

"Of course," Santana smiled. "I'll be home at six."

"Okay, see you then!" Brittany bubbled. "Love you so much."

"Love _you_ so much," Santana replied, giving two kisses before she hung up.

* * *

><p>After two servings of lasagna, several heaping spoonfuls of mashed potatoes, and a whole side plate of steamed vegetables, Brittany devoured her first piece of ice cream cake and asked for another. Santana grinned. Over the past two weeks, Brittany seemed to be making up for all the meals she had wanted to skip in her first trimester. It made Santana feel more secure; not only were they out of the big miscarriage risk window, but Brittany's enthusiasm and energy had returned full-force.<p>

"Whoa, Britt, if you keep eating like that you're gonna get fat!" Nicole teased as Santana passed Brittany an extra large piece of cake. "You won't fit into your new scrubs!"

Brittany met Santana's eyes and gave her a knowing smile, indicating she was about to tell Nicole.

"Actually..." Brittany began. "I _won't_ fit into my scrubs soon."

Santana and Brittany beamed at each other and then back at Nicole. Even though Santana wasn't Nicole's biggest fan, she swelled with pride every time they told someone they were expecting.

But Nicole frowned in confusion.

"I'm pregnant," Brittany explained, her smile widening as she tilted her head toward Nicole.

"Really?" Nicole asked, still frowning.

"Just a little over three months," Brittany grinned, lifting her shoulders a little to show her excitement. "The baby's about the size of a lemon. I'll start to show soon." She gave her tummy a little pat.

Nicole paused, glancing at Santana for a moment before looking back at Brittany, still confused. "Who's the dad?" she asked.

Santana was dumbfounded. Of course she knew people would wonder about the logistics, but she hadn't expected anyone to be so socially ungraceful as to ask upfront, especially without expressing any happiness for them first. She had expected Nicole to start squealing and jumping and suggesting names, but she had _not_ expected Nicole to ask such an inappropriate question.

"There's no dad," Brittany replied with admirable patience in her voice. "Santana and I are the parents."

"Right, but like, how did you...?" Nicole trailed off, gesturing with her hand.

Brittany must have known how irritated Santana was becoming because she slid her hand over Santana's knee under the table and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Santana and I chose a donor together," Brittany said, patience still oozing from her words. "But he's not involved with the pregnancy and he won't be involved in raising the baby. He's just a donor."

"Who?" Nicole asked.

Santana couldn't bite her tongue anymore. Nicole's lack of respect for their boundaries was absurd. "That's _really_ none of your business," she snapped.

"Sorry," Nicole shrugged. "But isn't that, like, weird for you?" she asked, finally looking at Santana. "Like, she's having a kid with some random guy. That's weird, right?"

Santana's whole body clenched with anger. Her eyes widened and she inhaled, preparing for the tirade she was about to launch on Nicole. But before she could speak, Brittany tightened her grip on her knee.

"It's not weird," Brittany said, her voice finally hard and defensive. "Santana's been the most loving, supportive partner through the whole process and I know the baby belongs to me and her. Blood doesn't make a family; love does."

Nicole shrugged again. "Whatever. I just can't imagine it."

"You don't have to imagine, it," Brittany bristled. "But you _do_ need to respect that this is my family and it's not okay to minimize Santana's part in it." She stood, taking Nicole's plate and stacking it on top of her own as she stalked into the kitchen.

"You're welcome to take the rest of the cake on your way out," Santana said, standing and clearing her own plate. "Although we wouldn't want you to get _fat_," she sneered. She followed Brittany into the kitchen, biting both her lips to keep herself from speaking until she heard the front door open and close.

Santana exhaled and immediately wrapped her arms around Brittany's waist. "You okay?" she asked, concerned that Brittany's feelings had been hurt.

"Yeah," Brittany sighed, placing her hands on Santana's shoulders and pressing her belly against her. "I can't believe she said that. I'm really sorry. I thought she knew better."

Santana shrugged, trying to brush off the harshness of Nicole's reaction. "Whatever. She's just ignorant."

Brittany nodded and leaned forward, pressing her cheek to Santana's. "The baby's yours, sweetie," she murmured. "I'm more sure of that than anything else."

* * *

><p>"San-tan-aaa!" Brittany sang from the bedroom. "San-TAAAN-aaa!"<p>

Santana ran down the hall, rounding the corner in a panic. Her fears were quickly allayed when she saw Brittany spread out on the bed in her bathrobe, hair wild on the pillow with her knees drawn up, grinning from ear to ear.

Santana laughed. "What, Britt-Britt?"

"C'mere," Brittany beckoned, twisting her hips and knees from side to side. "I want you," she pouted, reaching for Santana.

"Okay," said Santana, taking Brittany's hand and sitting on the edge of the bed. "You have me."

"No, I mean I _want_ you," Brittany said, slipping Santana's hand into her bathrobe.

"_Oh_," Santana said, eyebrows arched in surprise.

Brittany had been tired or sick most nights and weekends, so they hadn't had sex since they'd found out she was pregnant. It had been unbearably long for Santana: four months was _forever_, especially for them. She had taken to getting herself off in the evenings before Brittany got home from class, but now that Brittany had graduated, it had been harder to find time to do it. Some mornings she would quietly take care of herself in the shower while Brittany got dressed, being careful to lock the door first. She usually didn't mind Brittany watching her - in fact, they both enjoyed it - but she didn't want Brittany to feel obligated or guilty that they weren't having sex while she was pregnant. Brittany had been feeling so sick, especially at night, and Santana's primary concern was Brittany's comfort, not her own mounting sexual frustration.

But now Brittany was clearly revving to go. To her surprise, Santana wasn't sure how she felt about it. She smoothed her hand over Brittany's stomach as she slowly untied the belt of the robe. She knew the fetus was about as big as an orange now, and as she felt Brittany's stomach, she felt it was ever-so-slightly rounded.

Brittany tore the robe open, revealing she had nothing on underneath. Her hips continued to rock from side to side in frustration as she parted her knees. Santana could see she was already glistening.

"Frustrated?" Santana teased, cocking an eyebrow.

Brittany let out a guttural moan, pushing Santana's hand between her legs. "God, _please_, just fuck me. I feel like I'm seventeen again," she panted as she pushed Santana's fingers into her wet center.

Santana grinned. She withdrew her hand and bent her head down and began kissing Brittany's nipples.

"No, no foreplay," Brittany whined, grabbing at Santana's hand again. "Just _fuck_ me."

Santana sat up and slid her hand out of Brittany's grasp before scooting to the end of the bed, positioning herself between Brittany's legs. She splayed her fingers over Brittany's inner thighs, spreading her legs wider as she dipped right into Brittany with her tongue.

Brittany hummed, head turning to the side. She reached between her legs and pressed the back of Santana's head deeper, coating Santana's cheeks and chin in her juices. Brittany tasted a little different now. Not bad different, just the slightest bit tangier. Santana's tongue worked dutifully up and down, slipping inside with rapid darting motions between languid licks around the slit. Brittany reached her other hand to fumble around Santana's fingers that were still pressed against her inner thigh. Santana moved her hand away, thinking she had spread Brittany's legs too wide.

"C'mon, S, fingers too," Brittany whined.

Santana lifted her head an inch, licking her lips clean. "Are you sure?"

"Of course._Please_," Brittany begged.

"I don't want anything to happen…" Santana admitted.

"Well _I_ do! I want to have a mind-blowing _orgasm_," Brittany said, gripping her hair in frustration.

"I meant to the baby," Santana said sheepishly.

"It'll be fine," Brittany assured. "Please. I _need_ this right now." She pressed Santana's head back into her folds. Santana returned to her task with reservation. Brittany batted her hand at Santana's. "Baby, come on!"

Santana slid her tongue up to Brittany's clit and positioned her index finger at Brittany's opening. She gingerly pressed it in, only to the second knuckle. She slid it back out, noting it was thickly coated with arousal. She inserted the tip of her middle finger along with her index, pressing in again only to the second knuckle.

"Oh, for God's sake, the baby's not going to fall _out_," Brittany rolled her eyes. "You're not going to hurt it with your gentle lady fingers."

Santana continued the soft, shallow rhythm of her fingers and tongue.

Brittany ran her hands through her own hair, clutching her scalp. She let out an exasperated sigh. "Santana, _what_ do I have to do to get you to fuck me like you mean it?"

Santana rallied and tried to allay her anxiety as she pushed her fingers further into Brittany. But she was still gentle. When Brittany came, it wasn't the strained ecstasy she was used to – it was a release, but a mediocre one at best.

As she held Brittany afterwards, she could feel Brittany was frustrated with her. But she didn't know what to say - wasn't the baby's safety most important? She grew more and more anxious when Brittany said nothing.

"I'm sorry, Britt... I just need to know it's safe, you know?" she murmured.

Brittany gave a little nod. "It's okay... I get it. We can ask at the sonogram next week."

"Okay," Santana said, taking her hand. "I'm excited for that," she murmured into Brittany's hair.

"Me too," Brittany nodded. "Our first look at our baby."

* * *

><p>That night Santana had her first baby dream. At first everything in her mind was fuzzy, as if looking through gauze or tulle or lace. She was sitting in the rocking chair, eyes fixed on the wad of blankets in her arms, smiling and singing very quietly, lips barely moving. <em>Que será, será... whatever will be will be...<em>

Then she was leaning over the crib, rubbing the baby's back as it snuffled and sighed in its sleep. Everything grew clearer as she heard the baby sputter and cry. She lifted the baby out of the crib and placed it on the changing table, cooing and hushing as she tried to soothe it. She struggled to change the baby's diaper, growing more and more frantic as the baby began to fuss with more urgency, wriggling around on the changing table, thrusting its little belly up in the air and kicking its chubby legs as it wailed. She held the baby over her shoulder, bouncing and trying to soothe it while it continued to cry and cry. She looked around for someone to tell her what to do.

She took the baby out of a bath and into the nursery only to find there was no clothing in the drawers. Turning to put the baby in the crib, the crib had disappeared and the baby's blanket and teddy bear lay on the ground with an empty bottle and dirty pacifier.

She held the fussing baby, opening up cupboards looking for baby food but finding nothing but dry ramen and Poptarts. She set the baby down on the floor and went to look for a bottle, returning to find the baby pulling cleaning supplies out from under the sink, its hands stained blue with some mystery detergent, blue lips and chin grinning up at her.

The scene changed and she found herself frantically looking for the baby. Where had she put it? It had been there a minute ago! She started running through the house, looking in drawers, on shelves, under the bed, in the cabinets, even in the dryer. But the baby was nowhere to be found. How had she _lost_ the baby? Where could it be? Finally she ran out to the driveway where a red Porsche was parked. Inside was her baby, sleeping peacefully on the sunny part of the seat. The sun beat down overhead, making Santana prickle with sweat. The baby must be melting! She frantically tried to open the car door, but it was locked. She could see the keys in the ignition. She had to get it out _now_. With strength she didn't know she possessed, she broke the window with her fist. The glass shattered with a sickening _crack_and Santana couldn't tell if the crack was her hand or the window. There was glass in her hand, it hurt and was already dripping blood. The baby was startled awake and started to cry, and when Santana picked it up, it started to _wail_. She ran with the screaming baby inside, bloodying the blankets as she tried not to drop the child as it twisted and tried to fight its way out of her grasp. She rushed into the nursery thinking maybe if she set it down it would stop crying.

Why wouldn't it _stop_?

When she went to lay the screaming baby in its bed, the bottom of the crib was deep and dark like the bottom of a well. She leaned over the railing, feeling it press into her stomach as she tried to set the baby down. She leaned farther over the edge of the crib. The dark bottom got even larger, like she was looking down into a cave. She couldn't let the baby sleep down there! But just then it slipped from her grasp, tumbling and twirling through the air and disappearing into the dark.

Just then Brittany walked in, wearing her cheerleading uniform from high school. She looked tired and grumpy as she dropped her backpack by the door.

"Where's my baby?" Brittany demanded, looking around the disheveled apartment.

Santana opened her mouth to answer, to try to explain that the baby had fallen, but a cold voice stopped her.

"She lost it," Dolores said, stalking toward Santana. "_Dropped_ it, actually."

Brittany looked like someone had hit her in the chest with a brick and Santana's heart broke.

"No, Britt, it wasn't like that!" Santana tried to explain. She held up her hand, finding the gashes had disappeared. "I- I hurt myself and-"

Dolores cut her off. "You shouldn't be a mother, Santana," she snarled. "You don't know _how_. But now the baby's gone, and it's for the better, really. It would only grow up confused."

Brittany's face was pale as a sheet. "Santana," she murmured, "how _could_ you?"

* * *

><p>Santana awoke with her heart pounding in her ears, her chest and limbs rigid with fear. She gasped, trying not to suck air in loud enough to wake Brittany. But she must have jolted, because Brittany rolled toward her, half awake.<p>

"What is it, baby?" Brittany mumbled.

Santana gulped, shaking her head and willing her heart to settle so Brittany wouldn't feel it as she rolled toward her.

"Nothing," she swallowed. "Just a dream."

"Wuh kina dream?" Brittany slurred, already rolling back into her side.

Santana couldn't handle telling Brittany about all the horrible things she had just done in her sleep, so she bluffed. "It was a work thing. Don't worry. Go back to sleep, sweetheart."

Santana rolled onto her side, squeezing her eyes shut and taking calculated, deep breaths into her belly. After a minute she felt too far away from Brittany and the baby, so she rolled onto her other side, sliding her hand over Brittany's stomach, reassured by the soft swell that met her hand.

"I love you," she murmured.

"Love you too..." Brittany mumbled.

Though her heartbeat was slowly steadying now that she was pressed against Brittany, she knew she was far away from sleep. She contemplated the shadows around the room as she made a note of several things that would need to be fixed, moved, or replaced once they had the baby.

After a minute she whispered into Brittany's hair, "Britt? Do you think I'm gonna be a good mom?"

Brittany's response was a slow, steady breath from deep within sleep.

* * *

><p>Santana grasped Brittany's hand tightly as she stood next to her in the exam room. Brittany looked up at her from the exam table, her smile calm and bright.<p>

The door opened and Dr. Greene walked in, holding Brittany's chart up as she scanned it.

"Oh-kay, ladies! Glad to see you here for _this_ occasion," she smiled. "I knew we'd getcha in here for a sonogram one of these days." She winked and set down the chart and washed her hands, her actions rote as she looked over her shoulder at Brittany and Santana. "So Brittany, you're about sixteen weeks now. How was the first trimester? Still having any nausea or dizziness?"

Santana looked down at Brittany, grinning with pride. She had to admit, even Brittany's morning sickness had been a little bit exciting, even if she felt helpless when Brittany felt so sick. But lately Brittany been feeling much better and had more energy, though her back had started to ache and she was more forgetful than usual. Santana found gently pressing the heel of her hand into Brittany's lower back while she lay on her side to be much more tolerable than holding back Brittany's hair while she vomited or wiping Brittany's face with a damp washcloth when she was dizzy. The vomit made Santana queasy, but other than that she didn't mind any of it: every symptom Brittany had was a reassurance, a reminder of the little life they had created.

Brittany tilted her head back against the pillow, shrugging, "Not really. It was really bad at first, especially in the evening, but I got through it, and in the past month it's gotten much better. Eating something helps, even if it's the last thing I want to do. Little meals throughout the day work best. Lately I can't _stop_ eating. I'm just so _hungry_ all the time."

"Good," nodded Dr. Greene as she began pressing buttons on the sonogram machine. "Totally normal, and I tell all my patients to eat little meals throughout the day. Any other symptoms or discomfort?"

"My boobs hurt a lot, but it could be worse."

Santana bit her lip to keep from smiling too much. Brittany's breasts had _definitely_ swelled over the past few weeks. Santana's only complaint was that they were too tender for her to fully enjoy.

"Well aren't you just as calm as can be?" remarked Dr. Greene. "Usually first-time parents come to their first sonogram all jittery. If I didn't know better I'd think you two had done this before."

"Nope," Santana said with pride, patting Brittany's hand in hers. "First time."

"I guess this _is_ a very happy occasion, after all your other visits. Okay…" Dr. Greene said, scanning the file. "So you're due in March, and you already said the nausea has been letting up a little. Many women do experience morning sickness throughout their pregnancy, so if that happens, don't worry too much, just keep eating small meals throughout the day. The soreness in your breasts will probably be sticking around, unfortunately. You might try experimenting with different bras to see if they make it a little more comfortable."

Brittany nodded. She had already tried that, and had found a little bit of a relief, but not much.

"Alrighty then, show time," Dr. Greene smiled. She gestured for Brittany to uncover her stomach and Brittany scrunched her shirt up under her breasts.

Brittany's stomach was slightly rounded now, though it took a second look to notice when you saw her walking down the street. She'd taken to wearing looser fitting shirts and dresses, so her little bump wasn't the first thing anyone noticed. According to the "fetus fruit chart," their baby was about as big as an avocado.

"First I'm gonna take a little listen here…" Dr. Greene put her stethoscope into her ears as she sat down on the rolling stool and scooted to the other side of Brittany. She pressed the flat end of the stethoscope against Brittany's stomach and her eyes darted to the wall while she listened. Dr. Greene's eyes narrowed in a frown as she listened. Santana's heart clenched. Was there something wrong? Could she not hear the heartbeat? Just as Santana's panic was starting to escalate, Dr. Greene's face softened in a smile. "There you are, little one," Dr Greene muttered.

Santana exhaled and leaned over Brittany as if she'd be able to hear if she was a few feet from the stethoscope. Dr. Greene's eyes flickered up to her and she smiled, pulling the stethoscope out of her ears. "Come here, Santana. You can listen. Actually, what am I saying, we can _all_ listen." She turned around and picked up an instrument from the sonogram machine, pressing its flat end to the same place the stethoscope had just been. She pressed a button and a loud, watery thudding echoed through the room.

Dr. Greene looked at the machine, watching the flickering numbers and lines and dials. "Okay, so that loud noise you hear is Brittany's heartbeat…"

Brittany chuckled a little and her stomach bounced under the exam instrument.

"And this itty bitty one…" Dr. Greene moved the device an inch over from where it had been. Santana heard a quiet, frantic fluttering, as if someone were drumming fingertips on a pillow. "That's the baby."

The three women listened for a moment.

"That's so cool!" Brittany whispered, looking at the machine with wide eyes, wondering what all the dials were telling Dr. Greene. "Sounds like the baby's hopped up on caffeine or something."

"Fetal heartbeats are very fast," nodded Dr. Greene.

Santana was frozen. She was sure her heart was beating just as fast as the baby's right now. She knew Brittany was pregnant, but hearing that heartbeat made it _real_. She realized they were bringing a child – a real, living, breathing _child_ – into the world. Nothing could possibly be more overwhelming or terrifying. Her understanding of building their family had just gone from theoretical to practical, and she hadn't been prepared for that shift. The gauzy images in her head of holding a baby in her arms while she rocked or smiling over Brittany's shoulder as she nursed were suddenly part of her immediate future, as if the child might be there waiting for them when they got home. Nothing could possibly be more important than preparing for all the things she knew would be required of her soon. She felt grossly unprepared, as though walking into a trial without having done a minute of research. And this time, a tiny human life was at stake.

Dr. Greene put away the stethoscope and opened a tube of gel. "This will feel a little cold," she said as she squirted a big dollop on Brittany's stomach. Brittany squeaked and giggled.

Feeling lightheaded, Santana let out a nervous chuckle and gripped Brittany's hand as if it might prevent her from fainting. Brittany noticed and looked up at Santana.

"You okay, honey?" she whispered.

Santana gulped and nodded.

Dr. Greene picked up another instrument, the head of this one larger. "Alright, are you ready to see your baby?" she asked with a smile, pushing a few more buttons.

Brittany nodded enthusiastically while Santana's eyes widened. It was the only movement she could make; her fear had morphed into paralysis. Dr. Greene pressed the device against Brittany's stomach, moving it slowly from side to side. An image flickered on the screen. Santana frowned at the blur of concave shapes and blobs that appeared. Dr. Greene pointed to one little blob in the middle that flickered a bit. "That's the heart," she said.

Santana was thankful there was a chair next to her. She sank into it, eyes transfixed on the pulse coming from the heart no bigger than a blueberry. Her breath flew from her chest in a barely audible "_oh…_" as she stared in awe. She rested her head on Brittany's arm, her dizziness dissolving against the warm skin. She watched the heart flutter next to the arrhythmic bobbing of the other shapes around it. She thought she could make out tiny arms and legs, but she wasn't sure. However the baby was positioned, it was real and it was theirs and it was perfect. It seemed so protected, floating in its protected womb, yet at the same time, it was so tiny and fragile, it seemed to be suspended in helpless peril. She would gaze at that splotch for days if it meant she could keep it safe.

Dr. Greene examined the image for a few moments, letting them marvel at it. She turned to them with a smile. "Everything looks normal. And..." she squinted at the screen, "you're in luck today, because the baby is positioned so that I can determine the sex. Do you want to know?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

"No," Brittany said immediately, shaking her head.

Santana regretted having agreed so readily to waiting to find out the sex. Now that she had seen their child - well, an image of their child at least - she wanted to know everything about it. She wanted to know its favorite colors and foods and music and if it liked to sit on a swing or play with blocks. She wanted to know if it would be afraid of learning to ride a bike or going to school for the first time. She wanted to know if its room would be messy or neat and if it liked dancing or singing best. She wanted to know absolutely everything there was to know about this tiny person they had made. But she couldn't change her mind now, not with Dr. Greene in the room and Brittany so calm and happy on the exam table. Besides, she was so entranced by the image on the screen, she couldn't have voiced her desire if she wanted to.

"All right," said Dr. Greene, shutting down the machine. "If you change your mind, I'll have the information on file." She took some paper towels and wiped the gel off Brittany's stomach.

"We won't change our mind," said Brittany, shaking her head. "We want to be surprised."

As the screen flickered off, Santana was brought back into the starkness of the exam room, and yet it seemed different. These weren't just any white walls with pamphlets on gestational diabetes and lactation coaching. These were the walls of the room that held her in place the moment she first saw her child.

"Well, you can't really go wrong," smiled Dr. Greene as she sat back on her rolling stool. "Boy or girl, you'll have a little Baby Pierce."

"Lopez-Pierce," Brittany corrected. "It's Santana's baby too."

"Oh, my apologies," said Dr. Greene, putting her hand to her chest. "I just have the file name in my head, and you're under Pierce, and- I'm sorry. I'll put a note in your file to make sure the baby's records all say Lopez-Pierce." She opened Brittany's file and took a pen out of the breast pocket of her lab coat. "Baby… Lopez… Pierce," she mumbled as she scribbled in the folder.

_Baby Lopez-Pierce._

The words rang in Santana's head. She gripped Brittany's hand tighter.

Dr. Greene closed the file and smiled, crossing her legs as she sat on the stool. "So I've already given you all the information about what not to eat, what activities are okay, all that. Many couples want to know if it's okay to have sex, and I always say that if you're not a high risk pregnancy and you're in the mood, go for it," she grinned, batting her hand in the air with casual encouragement.

Brittany grinned and tapped the back of Santana's hand with her index finger a few times.

"Are you taking your prenatal vitamins?" Dr. Greene asked.

"Yep, every day," said Brittany. "And I've read a few books on pregnancy nutrition that have been really helpful."

"Wonderful. Do you ladies have any questions?"

Brittany looked at Santana expectantly. When Santana remained motionless, Brittany shook her head. "I think we're okay for now."

"All right. You can always call if you think of something," Dr. Greene's eyes fell on Santana. "How're you doing there, Santana?" she asked, raising a friendly eyebrow.

Santana just nodded and gulped. "Good."

"You know, the baby's inner ear is developing around this week, so now is a good time to start talking to it, if you're so inclined," Dr. Greene said with a smile.

"Aw, hear that, sweetie?" Brittany grinned, patting Santana's hand in her own, "You can start speaking Spanish to my tummy now and Baby Avocado will hear you."

Santana gave another stiff nod and blinked, forcing a smile through her panic.

"You can call if you have questions too, Santana," Dr. Greene said with a wink. "Oh! I almost forgot. Let me get you a print-out of your sonogram." She entered her password into the computer in the corner and clicked through a few screens. Soon the printer on the shelf zoomed to life and a single black and white image was printed out.

"There you go!" Dr. Greene sang, offering it to Santana. Santana had to consciously will her hand to reach out and accept the paper. Once she grasped it, she never wanted to let it go.

"You ladies have a wonderful afternoon, and I'll see you back here in a month." Dr. Greene opened the door, her lab coat stirring up the air in the room as she left.

Santana stared at the picture just like she had stared at the monitor a few minutes earlier. Brittany looked over her shoulder, smiling.

"There it is..." Brittany sang, smiling at the image. She tapped her finger on the corner of the paper, "Baby Lopez-Pierce." Santana squinted at the tiny print in the corner, which was fuzzy in her blurred vision. It did indeed say _Baby Lopez-Pierce _in tiny block letters under Brittany's name.

"Sweetie, don't forget to breathe," Brittany whispered.

Santana hadn't realized she was holding her breath. She let it out in a gust. "Ohmygod," she gasped. "I don't even… I can't believe this is real. We just saw our baby. We just saw our _baby_!" Suddenly the words wouldn't stop tumbling out of her mouth. "We saw its little heart beat and its little globular head floating around and Dr. Greene checked its 'nads to see if it was a boy or girl and-" Santana's body jolted, switching into action as she was apt to do under stress. "We have to go home and get ready! We don't even have a crib or a high chair or any diapers or a car seat and _nothing_ has been babyproofed, we don't have any formula or bottles or baby food or a baby bathtub or one of those little backpack things you wear on your front to snuggle the baby to you and- what about if the baby gets sick? We need baby medicine! And we need-"

"Santana!" Brittany interrupted, trying not to giggle.

Santana closed her mouth, cutting off the stream of words.

Brittany sat up from the table, shirt falling over her stomach as she swung her legs over the side of the table so they brushed against Santana's knees. Brittany glowed as she smiled. "Baby, it's okay. We have _lots_ of time to get everything ready. And we don't have to worry about buying stuff until after the baby shower."

"Baby shower?" Santana frowned, her mental list halting. "Who's throwing you a shower?"

Brittany tilted her head, looking down at Santana with an amused expression. "Elinor. She's throwing _us_ a baby shower. Didn't you know?"

"Oh. No."

Even though her practical concerns had been addressed, Santana was still agitated. Perhaps more so, since she couldn't _do _something to prepare now. She realized she was still frowning when Brittany peered down her with concern.

"Baby, what's up?" Brittany asked. "You're so tense."

Santana nodded and looked at her feet on the linoleum. "I'm just… I'm just worried about the baby."

"The baby's fine," Brittany said, her voice soothing as her concerned frown faded and was replaced by a gentle smile. "Dr. Greene said it looks healthy."

"I know…" Santana bit her lip. "I guess maybe I'm worried about you?" she tried, unsure.

"I'm fine too," Brittany said, her smile steady. "I'm healthy and happy and I couldn't ask for better support. From you or anyone else."

Although Santana thought it would, her discomfort didn't subside with Brittany's assurance, not even a little bit. Her brow stayed furrowed as she traced the outline of a tile with her foot. The tile floor...

It was then she remembered the dream she had had the week before. She had seen the baby with its hands and face stained blue with chemicals, striking in contrast to the tile floor of their kitchen. The other images of her struggling with the most basic tasks of parenthood flooded her once again, and her anxiety surged, her hands numbing and her stomach clenching.

Brittany must have seen her tense, because she tilted her head and said, "What's really bothering you, sweetie?"

Santana decided to tell Brittany the truth, now that she had figured out what it was. "Well... you know that dream I had last week when I accidentally woke you up?"

"Uh huh..." Brittany murmured.

"Well... I'm worried I'm going to be a bad mom," Santana mumbled. "I have no idea what I'm doing."

Brittany tilted her head, giving Santana a sympathetic pout. "Oh, sweetheart… there's no way you could be a bad mom."

"Well I didn't exactly have a great role model," Santana muttered. "And I don't know how to change a diaper or make a baby stop crying or anything."

"You'll learn," Brittany said with a gentle shrug. "So will I. No one really knows how to be a parent before they become one."

Santana gave a timid nod but kept her gaze on the floor. She was calmer, but still apprehensive.

Brittany looked at Santana as she moped for a minute. "C'mere," Brittany said, patting beside her. Her hand made a crinkling sound against the paper that covered the exam bed.

Santana stood up, shoulders still slouched as she slid up onto the table, paper scrunching beneath her. Brittany reached across her lap and took Santana's far hand, holding it between her own.

"You know what my dad always says?" Brittany asked, her breath gentle against the side of Santana's face.

"Hm?" Santana hummed, turning her head to look at Brittany.

"He says parenting is like baseball: you can strike out seventy percent of the time and still make the hall of fame."

Santana didn't know anything about baseball, but she appreciated the analogy. She also knew Gordon didn't mess around with baseball metaphors.

Brittany continued. "No one gets it right all the time. Sometimes we'll mess up, but that's okay. As long as our child is healthy and feels safe and loved, we're doing our job just fine. And I know you'll go above and beyond that. You already have."

Santana looked at her feet, swinging them a few times. She thought about her own childhood, trying to remember times when she had felt close to her mother. She could remember her mother putting her to bed at night, and once when they had baked a chocolate cake for Antonio's birthday. But other than that, her mother had been disengaged and largely deferred Santana's care to Antonio, if he was home, and more often to a patchwork collection of playdates, au pairs, daycare, and after-school clubs.

"I just wish I had a better role model," Santana admitted.

Brittany pursed her lips and put her hand gently on Santana's back.

Santana's throat tightened and she almost couldn't force out what she needed Brittany to hear. "I don't want to be like my mom."

Brittany's hand wrapped around Santana's waist, pulling her in closer. Brittany leaned her forehead against Santana's temple, taking in a deep breath.

"You won't be, sweetheart," she cooed. "I know you won't."


	67. Glitter In The Air

**Chapter 67 - Glitter In The Air**

Chapter title and soundtrack is "Glitter in the Air" by P!nk.

A/N: The response to the last few chapters has been SO overwhelming! I don't know what to say. I wish I had time to respond to all my reviews!

Reminder - this story is only canon through "Born This Way." Any plot after that point on the TV show relating to Brittana or the rest of the Glee clubbers, including Finn Hudson, is not part of this universe.

* * *

><p>"Fucking hell," Santana hissed, throwing the screwdriver on the floor. "Why do they make cabinets out of the densest wood on the planet? You couldn't scratch this shit with a diamond."<p>

Brittany's voice drifted from the other room, "Don't curse near the baby," she chastised. "You heard Dr. Greene: our baby can hear now. I won't have our child growing up sounding like a sailor."

"It's not my fault this shitty screwdriver isn't working!"

"What are you doing in there?" Brittany called. Santana could hear the frown in her voice.

"Baby-proofing the cabinets," Santana called back.

There was a pause before Brittany appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, hand on her stomach. "Babe?" she asked with a skeptical look. "You _are_ aware the baby won't be here for another five months, right?"

"I know, I just want to do it while I have time," Santana said, bending to pick up the screwdriver again. She perched back up on the counter to continue her attempt at screwing the stupid little plastic contraption into place. "I figured we needed time to get used to, you know, not being able to open anything."

"Okay, but the baby won't be mobile for at least six months after it's born."

"I know, but once it gets here we won't have time for _anything_."

Brittany bit back a smile. "Maybe… but are you aware that there's absolutely no reason to baby-proof the cabinets _above_ the sink?"

Santana paused. "Well… I just thought… to be safe…"

"In case the baby is really tall or can climb up the cabinets onto the counter like an insect?" Brittany grinned.

"No, that would be super creepy."

"But a little bit cool. We'd be the first couple ever to have an anti-gravity baby." Brittany's face was spread in a glowing smile, the kind that Santana swore radiated out through the ends of her hair and her fingers and her toes and her eyelashes.

Santana removed the pieces of plastic from where she held them inside the cabinet and looked at Brittany with a sheepish grin.

"I'm just really excited and I want to be a good mom," Santana mumbled.

"I know, sweetie. C'mere." Brittany held out her arms to Santana

Santana hopped off the counter and let herself be drawn into Brittany's embrace. Brittany's belly was noticeably bigger against hers today, like there was half a baseball pillowed between them. Santana rested against it, feeling for the hundredth time that week like she never wanted to move.

Brittany hummed into Santana's ear, "Let's not worry about baby proofing yet, okay? It'll only take a few hours, and I bet we could get Carlos or Denton to come do it for us if we're too busy."

"We don't need a man to install baby proofing," Santana muttered in objection. "I'm perfectly capable of using tools."

"I know, sweetie, so am I," Brittany assured, her breath warm against Santana's neck. "We even have an electric drill I can show you how to use if you want. That will make it _much_ easier. But there are other things that are more important right now."

"Like what?" Santana mumbled, her annoyance softening.

"Liiiike… picking out really cute maternity clothes for when I start to pop, which is going to be soon," Brittany said, perking up. "Want to go shopping?" she offered.

"Yeah. That sounds like _way_ more fun than installing baby locks."

Brittany grinned and kissed Santana's cheek. "I'll get my coat."

Though Brittany protested, Santana took Brittany to a high-end maternity boutique, the kind where only one or two shoppers were ever in the store at one time. As Santana handed them through the curtain, Brittany tried on dozens of dresses and shirts and a few pairs of elastic waist pants. Using the padding the store provided to help her gauge what she would look like in the months to come, Brittany turned from side to side as she examined how each garment looked in the three-way mirror. She grinned at some, turned her chin up and to the side at others, and frowned at every price tag.

"Why is everything in this store so expensive?" Brittany whispered when Santana came in to see how one particular dress looked. "I don't want to pay so much for something I'm only going to wear for a few months!"

Santana stepped toward Brittany, pressing against her back as she wrapped her hands around Brittany's cushioned stomach and perched her head on her shoulder. "But I want you to have the best," she murmured in Brittany's ear, "the trendiest, most comfortable maternity clothes in town." She looked at their reflection in the mirror: Brittany was wearing a stretchy red, knee-length dress that accentuated her curves. "Besides, this one's perfect for Christmas," Santana added. "Just put on some leggings and boots and you're set for just about any occasion."

Brittany tilted her head as she tried to imagine the ensemble with leggings and boots. Santana took the opportunity to admire her in her most curvaceous state yet; the padding was only a preview of what was to come, and Santana found herself mesmerized. With her arms wrapped protectively around Brittany's sides, she ran her hands over the cushion. The shape was so beautiful, so natural and alluring, she felt a pang of guilt when she realized her hands were drifting lower, heading for the juncture of Brittany's legs. She was embarrassed to admit how, well... _sexy_ she found Brittany's altered form. Was she supposed to find a pregnant woman sexy? It seemed disrespectful. She pulled her hands away and let out a soft, nervous laugh.

Brittany's smile stayed constant as she watched Santana's gaze shift down and to the side. "It's okay, S," she murmured, "I think it's beautiful too."

Santana forced a smile and looked back up. "Yeah, I like this one," she declared, diverting the conversation to the dress. "I think we should buy it."

Brittany held her gaze for a moment, waiting to see if Santana would drop the façade, but she didn't. "Okay," Brittany agreed, nodding, "But just this one. We're going to the outlet for the rest."

Santana bobbed her head and stepped back, lifting the curtain from the dressing room and walking back out into the boutique. As Brittany changed, she looked at the displays, averting her eyes from the rounded bellies of the mannequins, not wanting to feel any more shame or confusion over her reaction to Brittany's rounded stomach. But the pregnant mannequins were everywhere, so Santana kept her eyes low, her wrists brushing against the sleeves of the racks of shirts and dresses. Finally she allowed herself to look at one of the mannequins. She glanced around; the cashier was busy and Brittany was still changing, so she tilted her head and admired the shape of the statue's pregnant belly. She agreed with what Brittany had said, it _was_ beautiful. She took a step toward it, hand raised toward the firm swell she knew was only plastic, yet it intrigued her nonetheless. She ran her fingers over it, entranced.

"Can I help you with anything?" the cashier asked across the shop.

Santana pulled her hand away quickly, heat creeping up the back of her neck through her hair. "No thanks," she said, "just checking the price."

Brittany emerged in her own clothes and walked to the counter. "Just this," she said with a sweet smile, handing over the red dress.

"Four months, right?" the saleslady asked with a plastic smile.

Brittany beamed and nodded. "Sixteen weeks."

"Your husband must be so proud," the shopkeeper smiled as she rang up Brittany's new dress.

Santana rolled her eyes and walked toward the cashier. Naturally two _lesbians_ wouldn't be shopping in a boutique like this, right? Stranger's assumptions that she was only a friend to Brittany were especially annoying now. Actually, if she were being completely honest, it was more hurtful than annoying. She needed to feel important now more than ever, especially since she felt so powerless.

"I don't have a husband," Brittany said with a gracious smile as Santana approached. "I have a wife." Brittany reached for Santana's hand and intertwined their fingers.

"Oh... umm, sorry," the cashier blushed. "You two are a... cute... couple."

Brittany handed over her credit card and the cashier fumbled with the last few buttons on the register before ripping off their receipt and handing it over the counter. Her eyes darted back and forth, unsure who to hand it to.

"Thanks," Santana said, winking suggestively at the cashier as she took the receipt. She stuffed it in her pocket and added, "and yeah, in case you're wondering, I'm the one who knocked her up."

Brittany giggled but scolded "Santana!" under her breath as Santana pulled her gently out of the store.

As they entered the main walkway of the mall, Santana reached across her body, offering to carry the bag.

"I got it," Brittany said cheerfully.

They walked halfway to the end of the mall before Santana finally spoke. "You said we were married," she stated. "In the shop you called me your wife."

"Uh huh," Brittany nodded, swinging their clasped hands a little between them. "I figured it was easiest. In my head we are, you know? There just hasn't been a ceremony yet."

"Yeah," Santana nodded, following Brittany's gaze. "I know." They took a few more steps before Santana added, "I like being called your wife."

Brittany grinned and gave Santana a peck on the cheek, beaming. "Are you hungry?" she asked, nodding toward a pretzel and lemonade stand between two shops.

Santana grinned. "Of course," she said, even though she wasn't really. "What kind do you and Baby Sweet Potato want?"

Brittany found them a little round table while Santana ordered and paid for their snacks. She carried their pretzels and lemonade back to the table: Parmesan for herself and cinnamon sugar for Brittany. "Sugar and spice and everything nice," she grinned as she handed Brittany her pretzel and sat down.

Brittany smiled and took a big bite, licking the sugar crystals from the sides of her mouth with the tip of her tongue as she chewed.

Santana watched Brittany's fingers as they curled around her lemonade cup, lifting it to her mouth to drink through the straw. She could almost see the ring she knew would be there some day - the ring she suddenly felt _should_ be there.

"Do you want me to get you a ring?" she asked. "So people know you're taken?"

Brittany curled her lips around the straw in a smile and shook her head. After she swallowed she said, "I want you to get me a body pillow and jar of olives and some super sexy fuzzy socks."

Santana let out a sighing laugh. "Okay," she said, lifting her pretzel to her lips. "I can definitely arrange that."

They sat in the center of the mall, smiling at each other when their eyes met in between people-watching and taking bites of warm, doughy pretzel and sips of sickeningly sweet lemonade. Santana thought about Brittany's ring; she needed to get her one at some point. But she didn't want it to just be a casual handoff, a '_here's yours, babe_.' She'd have to figure out the right way to give it to her.

Brittany was about to crinkle up her pretzel sleeve when her phone rang. She fished it out of her purse and and sighed, rolling her eyes almost undetectably. Santana frowned and tilted her head, silently asking who was calling, but Brittany lifted the phone to her ear before answering Santana.

"Hello Mrs. Manning-Carlton," Brittany said, trying to sound bright and cheerful.

Santana watched her face, deducing that Brittany was talking to her hospice client, responding with warm _uh huhs_ and _rights_.

Brittany took a breath and began answering Mrs. Manning-Carlton. "Yeah, he gets grumpy when he forgets it's Alice's day, but tell him I'll be back tomorrow. Yeah, I know..."

Santana took another sip of lemonade before deciding it was, in fact, too sweet.

"I know," Brittany repeated. "Just keep reminding him. Okay. Any time. Bye." She hung up and put her phone back in her purse.

"Your client?" Santana asked, setting her cup in the middle of the table and leaning back in her chair.

"His niece. She's managing his care. You can tell she hasn't had to work much. Neil's supported her most of her life."

Santana nodded, tearing a bite of pretzel off and popping it in her mouth, rubbing the sticky Parmesan between her fingers and then on her napkin. She then remembered the name Brittany had used when she answered the phone. "Wait, what did you call her? Mrs...?"

"Manning-Carlton. She hyphenated when she married."

"And you said your client's name was..."

"Neil."

Santana lurched forward in her seat. "Neil _Manning_?" she gasped. How was it possible that Brittany was caring for the man who had paid her salary to help write the marriage equality bill?

Brittany wrapped her lips around her straw and nodded with a curious frown on her face.

"Does he look like a skinny version of the Monopoly guy?" Santana asked, double-checking.

Brittany giggled and nodded. "But grumpier."

Santana sat back, rolling her head back and lifting it again. "Oh my god, do you know who that is?" she asked.

Brittany shook her head, opening up her pretzel sleeve and wetting her finger in her mouth before dipping it into the loose sugar and cinnamon. "Was he some kind of famous lawyer or something?"

Santana raised her eyebrows. "Well yeah, he _was_, but he's the guy that paid my salary when I was working for Marcía!"

Brittany's face brightened. "_Really_?"

Santana nodded vigorously. "I only met the old grump a few times, but he's a force to be reckoned with. Cranky as hell."

"Aw, he's kind of sweet," Brittany said, leaning forward to take Santana's half-finished lemonade. "Grumpy and eccentric, sure, but I kind of like the guy."

Santana pictured Brittany caring for a bed-ridden Neil. Even though she knew he wouldn't be wearing his quirky three-piece suit and pocket watch, it was impossible to imagine him wearing anything else. As her imagination filled in the scene, she remembered why Brittany was taking care of him to begin with.

"So he's like... dying," Santana said, stating the obvious.

Brittany gave her a sad smile. "Esophageal cancer," she said, knowing Santana would ask what he was dying of.

"Oh," Santana said, looking down. "That's pretty bad, right?"

Santana met Brittany's eyes as she nodded.

"They don't really call in a hospice nurse otherwise," Brittany said, her voice softer than before.

"Is he being civil to you?" Santana asked, narrowing her eyes. She wasn't about to have Brittany being belittled by an old man, even if he _was_ dying.

Brittany nodded. "Yeah, he likes me. He gets cranky when his other nurse comes, like today. That's why his niece was calling. But he likes me. He just realized I was pregnant yesterday." She grinned and took a sip and set down the cup. "He was frowning and staring at my stomach as I arranged his lunch on his tray. It's kind of hard to tell with my scrubs," she explained, patting her stomach. "Finally he just looked up at me and said 'are you with _child_?' in that gravelly voice of his."

Santana chuckled; she knew exactly the voice Brittany meant. "So what'd you say?" she asked.

"I said I was, and that the baby was the size of a sweet potato. He just kind of _humphed_, but I saw a hint of a smile."

"Did he ask about your husband just like that shopkeeper?"

"Nope," Brittany said with a little shake of her head. "He just kinda gave me a nod. I could tell he was happy though. Babies make everyone smile."

Santana nodded, picturing Neil softening as he took in Britt's growing belly.

"Well you should tell him you're my fiancee. He'd get a kick out of it."

"I definitely will," Brittany said, her smile widening. "I'll bring in a picture."

Brittany drained Santana's lemonade, the harsh rattling of the straw dragging up the last drops echoing a bit in the cavernous mall. Just as she set the cup back on the table, her eyes went wide and her hand flew to her stomach.

"Oh my god!" Brittany gasped, looking down at her stomach in shock.

"What?" Santana asked, jolting forward. "What's wrong?" she demanded.

"Nothing!" Brittany said, her grin spreading impossibly wide. "I just felt Baby move!"

"Seriously?" Santana said, her face lighting up in awe.

"Uh huh," Brittany gushed, her head bobbing up and down in an ecstatic nod. "Oh, wow! That was _so_ cool!"

Santana got up and pressed her hand to Brittany's belly, hoping to feel a hint of what Brittany was experiencing. She held her hand there for a full minute against the warm skin, oblivious to passersby. Brittany looked from her stomach to Santana's face, unsure what to say as moments passed.

"I... I don't think you'll feel it, S," Brittany finally said. "It's just a tiny flutter. Like a butterfly or a goldfish, really."

Santana knew she didn't do a very good job concealing her disappointment as she drew her hand away and sat back down.

"But don't worry!" Brittany said, trying to cheer her up. She leaned across the table, reaching for Santana's hand and holding it in her own. "I know you'll feel it soon. And I'm so glad you were here with me the first time I felt it!" Brittany said. "Every step of the way together, right?"

Santana nodded, forcing a smile.

* * *

><p>"Santana, thanks for coming in," Denton said, his face uncharacteristically serious as he sat in the chair across from Santana at the round table in his office. Santana knew not to joke or call him "boss" right now because his forehead had a slight crease in it and his laugh lines were etched into his face.<p>

Santana gave him a curious frown. "Of course," she responded. "What's going on?"

"Well, the other managing partners and I have been meeting a lot lately - I'm sure you've noticed - and we've finally made some... executive decisions." He gestured through the air with his hand as if it would provide more explanation than his words. "We don't think the current structure of the company is working, so we're going to be making some changes. Now, not everyone is going to be happy with these changes. I wanted to give you a heads up that you may not be so bored in the office soon."

Santana's whole body had gone icy with fear. He was being too vague and his usually cheerful energy seemed anxious. "Denton... what are you saying?" she asked, her voice unsteady as she sat forward. She was terrified of the answer.

"The company is... restructuring," Denton said, still hesitant.

"Denton," Santana began, her throat almost choking off her words. His vagueness could only mean he was trying to break the bad news to her gently. But she was going to put up a fight - one _hell_ of a fight. "You can't do this to me! Not _now_!" Her breath started coming in rapid, shallow pants. "I can't- I can't lose my job! Britt's pregnant! She has a job, but it's temporary and the benefits aren't that great and-"

Denton burst out laughing, putting his hand to his chest. "Really?" he asked, chuckling, "You think I'm _firing_ you?" he chortled. "I'm not _firing_ you, I'm telling you you might actually get to litigate! Why do you always assume the worst?"

Santana's eyes went wide and she felt like she could have smacked him for scaring her like that. But instead she leaned back in her chair and heaved a sigh of relief. "Denton, don't you ever _fucking_ scare me like that again," she demanded. "It's not funny."

Denton laughed again. "Santana, you're a hard worker, one of the most reliable employees I have. You'd have to commit fraud or get caught embezzling funds for me to fire you. I may be running a business, but firing someone who's expecting a baby is notoriously bad for morale," he grinned. "I just wanted to give you a heads up that your workload might be piling up soon."

Santana felt a surge of excitement in her belly. She nodded. "Good," she responded, sitting up straighter. "Bring it on."

Denton grinned back at her, nodding as he started to get up.

"I'm still taking my maternity leave though," Santana said, her expression challenging over her relieved smile.

"Of course," Denton said, dipping his head with a wink. "You'd sue me if I didn't let you."

* * *

><p>One month later, Brittany and Santana were in Lima for Thanksgiving. Brittany was reading in the spare downstairs bedroom while Santana and Hayley polished the silver for tomorrow's meal. Brittany had offered to help, but Santana had read the ingredients in the silver polish and declared that it probably wasn't safe for the baby. Brittany shrugged and walked down the hall, grabbing a book off the shelf on her way.<p>

Twenty minutes later, Brittany called for her from down the hall. "San-tan-a!" she sang.

Santana walked down the hall into the room, raising her eyebrows as she rounded the door frame. "Yeah?"

Brittany pouted and said, "Can you get me some olives? I know it's almost dinnertime, but I'm hungry..."

Santana gave her a sympathetic grin. "Britt, we don't have any more."

"I ate them _all_?" Brittany asked, stunned.

"Yeah... I'm pretty sure half that bump is made of olives," Santana grinned. "Do you want me to go get you some more?"

Brittany pursed her lips and drew them to one side of her face, contemplating. "Well... you don't _have_ to."

Santana laughed at Brittany's hesitance to directly tell her to go to the store. "Stuffed olives or unstuffed?"

"Stuffed," Brittany said, her grin widening. "Thanks sweetie."

Santana bobbed her head and turned to walk back to the kitchen.

"We need milk too!" Brittany called.

"Got it!"

Santana returned to the kitchen and corralled Hayley into accompanying her to the store.

On the drive there, Santana asked Hayley about her studies at Wesleyan. Hayley's ambition was impressive to say the least, and in addition to being poised and articulate, she was smart as a whip, if not a little anxious. She had just declared her Economics major, and had plans to pursue at least a masters afterwards. The Pierces often joked, and Santana had to agree, that Hayley had been left in a basket on the doorstep, because she was nothing like her parents or Brittany.

Santana knew Hayley had always admired her. Not only did Gordon and Vickie tell her on more than one occasion, but she could tell by the way Hayley hung on her every word. Though they didn't see each other often, Santana got the sense Hayley felt a strange sort of kinship with her. They were both planners and sometimes had a hard time sitting back and relaxing, though it was certainly amusing to watch the rest of the Pierce family try to cajole them into it.

When they got to the grocery store, Santana had to smile as Hayley suggested Santana get the olives while she got the milk. It was practical and efficient and every bit in line with Santana's philosophy about errands. Brittany would have wandered up and down the aisles, eventually meandering towards the olives and drifting towards the milk. And since she had gotten pregnant, Brittany wanted to be touching all the time, even if it was just the backs of their hands, so she would have pouted if Santana suggested dividing and conquering their list. Shopping with Hayley was a breath of fresh air.

They met back up at the checkout stand and Santana placed the olives on the belt as she reached for her wallet.

"What's up, Santana?" she heard the smug male voice of the cashier say.

Santana looked up and tried to hide her surprised grimace. "Hi Finn," she said. "Nice to uh... see you again." She recalled her last run-in with him, last Christmas when she and Brittany had run out to get a pregnancy test. Apparently Finn wasn't just a gas station attendant, but also a cashier at the local market.

"Hiii Finn," Hayley said, sounding unnatural as she shot him a flirtatious smile. "I don't think we've met," she giggled.

Santana shot Hayley an appalled frown. Not only was Hayley god-awful at flirting, but Santana was _not_ about to let Brittany's sister try to make a move on Finn "Lima Loser" Hudson. She deserved better.

Santana stared at Hayley and shook her head. "No," she muttered when Hayley glanced at her. "Just... no."

Finn looked confused for a moment before seeming to realize Santana had just cockblocked him.

"So what can I do you for, ladies?" Finn asked with his lopsided grin. "Anyone need a pack of cigarettes, condoms, or a pregnancy test?" he added, raising his eyebrows in challenge at Santana.

"This is Brittany's _sister_, Finn," Santana spat. "And no, I _won't_ be needing a pregnancy test. Brittany's five months pregnant already."

"Aw, that's great," Finn said, dropping the animosity. "Tell her congrats for me. She's gonna be a great mom."

"I know, isn't she?" Hayley agreed.

"Who's the dad?" Finn asked.

Santana flared. Not _this_ again. "There's no dad," she scowled, pointing to herself. "Lesbian, remember?"

"Oh, but you know what he meant, Santana," Hayley dismissed. "The person she _made_ the baby with. And actually Brittany won't tell me. Who is it, Santana?" They both turned and looked at Santana expectantly.

Santana was positively stunned. Never before had Hayley said anything so disrespectful or careless. This was the girl she had watched grow up, the girl who had idolized her since the first time Santana had dinner at the Pierce house. Hayley had given her a Christmas present every year and her face lit up whenever Santana called or Skyped her on her birthday. Being discounted so readily to someone who was a complete stranger to Hayley was a blow Santana had _never_ expected.

"I'm the baby's other parent. It doesn't matter were the sperm came from, okay?"

Finn shrugged as he scanned the olives and milk. "I think it matters," he said.

Santana opened her mouth to retort just at the moment that Hayley said, "me too."

Santana felt punched in the gut. "I, um..." she mumbled, licking her bottom lip. She had no idea what to say as her eyes flickered over the worn floor tiles. She supposed she could say something about her and Brittany making the baby together, but she was afraid that would be dismissed too. She could have handled Finn alone, but Brittany's _sister_? It felt too close.

Feeling cornered and wounded, she quickly paid, cringing at Hayley's efforts to flirt with Finn. She stuffed the receipt in her pocket as soon as Finn handed it to her and without looking back or saying goodbye to Finn, headed out the automatic doors.

On the ride back, Hayley tried to talk about the weather changing and how she wasn't looking forward to returning to campus for exams. Santana hummed and nodded, trying to appear interested, but she was too upset to fully pay attention.

"Everything okay?" Hayley asked, remarking at Santana's reticence. "You're being kind of quiet."

Santana took a breath, trying to choose her words carefully. But she didn't trust herself to tell Hayley how she really felt, so she opted for "I just really don't like Finn."

When they got home, Santana went straight to Brittany.

"Here's your olives," she said, her voice sounding too urgent and pressured for her own taste. "Can I get you anything else? Tea? Water? Juice?"

Brittany smiled gratefully at her. "Just the olives. Maybe some company."

Santana nodded, handing the olives to Brittany as she stepped out of her shoes and sat down on the bed. "Foot rub?" she offered, turning towards Brittany's legs. Santana felt rigid, but she couldn't quite figure out why. All she knew was that _doing_ something would help.

But Brittany wasn't giving her anything to work with. "No, come snuggle. I missed you," she said with a little pout.

Santana pursed her lips and lay down, trying to relax into the softness that was Brittany. Brittany could probably tell Santana was too antsy to lie still, because she took Santana's hand in hers, bringing it to rest on her belly.

"Baby Papaya missed you, too," Brittany murmured, tilting her face to kiss Santana's temple. "It wants to know when you'll sing to it next."

Santana smiled, sighing as she felt herself loosen a little. "Whenever you want, B," she murmured. "I'm always happy to."

Brittany grinned and nodded, encouraging her.

Santana curled her hand over Brittany's belly, cradling it. Brittany was bigger this week; Santana felt more energy under her hand as she began to sing a song her mother had sung to her a few times when she was small. She sang softly, without any of the grit or salt her voice usually had.

"_La linda manita que tiene el bebé, qué linda, qué bella, qué preciosa es..._"

It didn't rhyme, and it was technically for a baby that was already born, but it was the only Puerto Rican children's song Santana could remember.

"I think I need to learn more Puerto Rican lullabies," Santana said, frowning after she finished the song for the third time. "I don't want Baby Papaya to think I'm a one-hit wonder, you know."

"What about _Las Mañanitas_?" Brittany suggested.

Santana gave her an adoring but amused smile. "That's a birthday song, B," she explained. "But we'll definitely sing it on Baby's birthday." Santana shifted her gaze from Brittany's belly to her face, taking in the peaceful glow she saw there.

"Well I have a song for our baby too," Brittany grinned. "Ready?"

Santana quirked an eyebrow and nodded.

Brittany's smile grew smug as she looked down at her stomach, cradling it with her hand. "Row, row, row your boat, gently 'round the bay," she sang, "Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, both your moms are gay."

Santana snorted and buried her face between Brittany's shoulder and the pillow. "Oh god, Britt, don't teach Baby Papaya that!" she chuckled. "It will think those are the real words!"

"Who says they're not?" Brittany said, trying to frown on top of her smile. "I say they're the real words."

"Okay," Santana said, rolling her eyes on top of her smile as she leaned up to kiss Brittany. She let her lips pause against Brittany's, relishing how warm and soft they were. Her voice lowered as she pulled away and said, "Whatever you say, Mama B."

Brittany leaned forward to kiss Santana again, letting her lips rest for a moment. Santana pressed into her, moving their lips along each other, sliding and nibbling. Just as she slid her tongue between Brittany's lips, Brittany flinched and pulled away, her eyes wide. Both her hands flew to her stomach, wrapping around and clutching it.

"What?" Santana asked, confused until she realized the baby was moving. "Oh!" Her hand darted out to rest next to Brittany's. "Where?" she gasped. "Here?"

Brittany nodded, eyes glued to her stomach as she grabbed Santana's hand and placed it where her own had been, pressing it more firmly than Santana ever would have. She held it there for a full minute. Santana felt frozen, waiting for a flicker under her palm. But after a full minute of waiting, breath held, Brittany frowned.

"It stopped," Brittany murmured, sounding disappointed. "Sorry."

Santana held her hand against Brittany's stomach a moment longer, nodding. After another minute, nothing happened, so she took her hand away, sighing. "I wish I got to have mommy experiences like you," Santana mumbled.

Brittany ran her fingers over Santana's upper arm, trying to comfort her. "Maybe Baby Papaya will start moving again in childbirth class next weekend," Brittany offered. "Maybe all that breathing and thinking about labor will get it excited and kicking."

"Yeah, maybe," Santana said, trying to smile as Brittany patted her hand.

"You'll feel it soon," Brittany assured.

* * *

><p>Santana wasn't sure how close to sit to Brittany in their first childbirth class. If no one else had been around, she would have huddled as close to her as she could. But she didn't have a feel for how gay-friendly this particular group was yet, so she sat about a foot and a half away, looking for clues it was okay to scoot closer.<p>

The instructor, a thin, older woman with a kind, round face, had all the couples seated at tables. This had surprised Santana, because sitting like she had in college and law school wasn't exactly how Santana pictured preparing for the birth of their child. But she wasn't sure what she _had_ expected to be doing - perhaps for Brittany to be sitting _on_ the table, doing breathing exercises and squeezing her hand or something, pretending to be panicked and in pain. But that was silly. Brittany was a terrible actress and would play it cooler than was realistic, so as to not alarm Santana.

But one thing Santana _had_ expected proved to be true: she was the only female partner in the class.

The instructor invited everyone to introduce themselves first. Santana's stomach tightened as the other couples introduced themselves, knowing her turn was coming soon and she would see any possible judgments in the faces or sidelong glances of their classmates. There was Paul and Linda who were expecting a boy; Stacy and Ed who had three miscarriages before their current pregnancy; Annabelle and Steve, the preppiest couple Santana had ever seen, who already had two kids from Annabelle's first marriage but were here for their first together; and Steve and Alison, who had just moved from Atlanta and had accents that rang like Vickie's.

Then it was their turn. Santana was frozen and silent.

"Hi, I'm Brittany," Brittany bubbled, her most brilliant, beaming smile dancing over the faces of the other people in the class. "I'm six months as of last week. This is my partner Santana, and even though I know she'd be totally awesome at it, I'll be the one giving birth," she said with a twinkle in her eye, patting her stomach. "And in case you're wondering, she's the one who knocked me up," Brittany added, echoing Santana's words to the shopkeeper with a wink in Santana's direction.

Santana grinned at Brittany, her heart melting a little. A few chuckles sounded around the room and Santana felt a little less tense.

Brittany continued. "We're waiting to find out the sex, so since this week our baby is supposedly the size of an eggplant, we call it Baby Eggplant. Um... what else... I'm a nurse and I work in hospice. Until recently I really liked running. Well, I still really like it, but I can't run for a bit... and I guess I'm just really looking forward to being a mom!" Brittany ended her introduction with a bounce of her shoulders as she turned to Santana, passing the torch.

Santana took her eyes off Brittany and surveyed the faces of their classmates. "Um, hi," Santana said with a sheepish grin. "I'm Santana. She pretty much said it all... I'm really looking forward to being a mom too, but the birth part seems kind of terrifying, so I'm glad we're here getting ready for that."

Most people in the room nodded a bit, especially the dads. Santana was relieved again. No one was looking at her like she was a mutant, and they seemed to actually be feeling as nervous as she was, about the birth process at least.

The instructor thanked everyone for their introductions and launched into her lecture. Santana kept her attention glued to the instructor, scribbling everything she said down on a notepad.

"Okay, so let's dive right in!" the instructor began. "Giving birth is not like in the movies. In the movies, the water breaks, everyone panics, the woman grabs her belly and has one enormous contraction and gives birth during the five minute drive to the hospital. I'm here to tell you with about ninety nine point nine percent confidence that will not be happening to you," she grinned.

A few people chuckled as the instructor continued. "In real life, the water usually breaks _during_ labor. There's no reason to run to the hospital at the first contraction, and unless you're a high risk pregnancy, you _shouldn't_. A good guideline to follow for first pregnancies is 4-1-1: go to the hospital when your contractions are four minutes apart, one minute long and have been that way for one hour. Your have to allow your body time to really get labor going, otherwise the hospital might actually turn you away or charge you outrageous fees. But don't worry about those specifics right now. I'll go over everything at least twice in this course," she said with a wink.

"So," she continued, "Santana mentioned it, but many of you are probably a little scared about what will actually happen during the labor and birth."

Santana looked around, seeing most people nodding or grimacing in agreement.

"Well, you're not alone in feeling that way. Labor is really hard - that's why they call it labor!" she laughed, "but it's not one giant, screaming emergency. There are actually parts that are pretty boring between contractions. So keep that in mind. It's not usually a mad dash. So I want everyone to take a deep breath and repeat this to yourself: labor is not a mad dash, it's a process."

Santana let the words bounce around in her head several times. _Labor is not a mad dash, it's a process. Labor is not a mad dash, it's a process._

"So let's talk a little bit about that process," the instructor invited, turning towards the whiteboard and writing a few words down. "Labor has distinct phases. Early labor tends to be long but easier than active labor. Active labor requires more focus and pain-coping techniques. And then, the part everyone is most excited and terrified about, pushing the baby out at the end. That's another thing entirely and can actually be a relief because now you can finally do something! And then there's the delivery of the placenta, which happens about five to twenty minutes after the baby is born. Over the next few Saturdays we'll be learning about the stages of labor and helping you prepare for each one. We'll break each one down and learn concrete steps to take and techniques to use to manage each one, for both the person giving birth and the birthing partner."

Santana found herself distracted by a poster on the wall. Written in white ink over the graceful black silhouette of a pregnant woman were the words: _A human body can only bear 45 del (units) of pain, but during childbirth, a woman experiences 57. _

Santana read the words over and over until she felt like she couldn't breathe. The thought of anyone in that much pain was sickening, much less Brittany. How could she be certain Brittany wouldn't _die_? She glanced over at her, seeing she was held in rapt attention by what the instructor was saying. She seemed calm; happy, almost. Santana focused on inhaling and exhaling, determined to get through the rest of the class without having to leave the room.

"Now, here's the most important thing I'm going to tell you about childbirth," the instructor said, her voice clearer and more authoritative than before. Santana's attention snapped back to the subject at hand. "Childbirth is not something to be afraid of. It's something women have done successfully for millions of years. I know you can do it just as well as they can, and you have the magic of modern medicine to help you. Yeah, contractions can be very intense and the process of birth can seem overwhelming, but the fact is, our bodies were built to do it. Unlike other kinds of pain, labor pain doesn't mean something is wrong. There are things you can do to get through the hard work: that's what we're here to learn. So everyone take a deep breath and practice your mantra: _Labor is not a mad dash, it's a process." _

After four hours of nonstop information peppered with reassurance from the instructor, Santana was relieved when they were dismissed.

"Pretty cool, huh?" Brittany grinned as they were leaving the hospital where the childbirth class was held. "I liked her a lot. She knows what she's doing."

Santana was still in terrified silence, sick to her stomach after thinking about the gruesome endeavor of childbirth. The thought of seeing Brittany in pain was enough to make the back of her legs go icy with dread, but with the added certainty of blood, yelling, sweating, cursing and ripping, Santana was certain she would faint or vomit - most likely both.

"I liked what she said about it being my body and my labor and I get to make all my own decisions. And the part about the philosophy of the person delivering our baby mattering. We _do_ deserve to have someone who's on board with our birth plan. People always defer to doctors, but I don't want to do that."

Santana gulped and nodded. "Sounds good," she forced out.

"I'm glad we have Dr. Greene," Brittany mused, more to herself than Santana.

"Uh huh... me too," Santana said. She hoped her voice didn't betray that she couldn't concentrate.

"You okay?" Brittany asked upon hearing how strained Santana's voice was.

"Fine," Santana choked.

Brittany's face softened and she lowered her voice. "No you're not, you're freaking out," she acknowledged.

Santana nodded, swallowing again.

"There's no reason to freak out," Brittany said, her voice lilting and gentle. "My body is designed to do this. And you can just stay up at my head and help me time my contractions, okay? You don't have to look at the bloody part."

Santana looked at the ground, contemplating what she felt her role should be. Finally she spoke. "No..." she said, taking a breath, "every step of the way together means every step of the way, right? You deal with blood, I deal with blood. I can do it. I _want_ to do it. Our baby means everything to me. I want to be there from start to finish."

Brittany grinned and brought Santana's hand up to kiss, then tucked it back between them as they walked to their car.

* * *

><p>Elinor had truly outdone her own domesticity. The decorations for the baby shower were almost kitschy and they had completely transformed Danielle's living room - well, it was also Elinor's living room now. Sure, Elinor was crafty, but the little cupcakes with pacifiers on them, the streamers, the dangling ornaments of diapers and bonnets and baby booties and bottles were, in sixteen-year-old Santana's words, a little <em>bougie<em>. She took a bite of her cupcake, licking the vanilla frosting off her fingers as Danielle came back into their living room with a ball of yarn with a smug grin on her face.

"No, no, we are NOT playing the string game!" Brittany objected with a giggle, knowing what Danielle was about to suggest.

"It's tradition, B, you _have_ to!" Kelsey teased.

"I already feel like a whale," Brittany grumbled as Kelsey passed around the ball of yarn.

"Are you kidding? You're tiny for six months!" Nicole protested.

Although Santana had gaped when Brittany first put Nicole's name on the list of people to invite to the shower, she had decided to give Nicole the benefit of the doubt: Brittany had assured her that Nicole was trying and that she would be on her best behavior.

"Stand up, Britt. Show us that adorable little baby bump," Santana encouraged, beaming. She thought Brittany looked absolutely stunning, and the white maternity dress with little daisies around the collar was perfect for the occasion.

Brittany grinned and stood up, placing her hands around her stomach. She wasn't actually that big, since she was only six months. Her bump was noticeable, but not overwhelming.

"Okay, does everyone know how to play?" Elinor asked, handing Hayley the yarn."You cut the string as long as you think Brittany is around the widest part of her bump. Whoever is closest to her actual size wins."

Elinor, Danielle, Nicole, Kelsey, Sasha, Vickie, Hayley, and Santana took turns cutting the yarn.

"You better not make yours too long, Santana" Brittany warned with a grin, "Otherwise I'll know you think I'm fat and you won't be getting any for a week."

Santana put her hand to her face as the heat rushed through her cheeks to her ears. She had come to accept that fact that Brittany would always be more open with their friends about their relationship, but talking about their sex life in front of Brittany's mom was a bit too much.

"Oh, don't play shy, Santana!" Vickie teased. "We all know how babies are made!"

Santana chuckled as she frowned, pretending to be perplexed by the logistical issues with Vickie's statement.

After they played the string game - Vickie won, of course - they played more baby games. Elinor set a timer for sixty seconds and they had to write down as many baby items as they could think of. Santana won because she had practically memorized the list they had at home. Brittany chuckled when she saw Santana's list was alphabetical.

By the time Elinor announced it was time to open gifts, Santana had reached her limit with baby shower games. Seriously, why where there so _many_? Their friends huddled closer around them on the couch, faces lit up and eager to see how their gifts were received. Santana handed each gift to Brittany, letting her hold up the little baby outfits against her belly, everyone cooing and awwing at each item. There were tiny baby booties, a half-dozen of the softest blankets Santana had ever felt, hats, toys, knitted sweaters and stuffed animals. Santana was glad her friends thought to give them clothes in a range of sizes: at the rate Baby Eggplant was already growing, the teensy newborn clothes wouldn't fit for long.

And those weren't the only gifts: Kelsey and Sasha gave them a crib - a sturdy white one where they could adjust the height of the mattress and turn into a toddler bed when the baby grew out of the crib - and a Diaper Genie "so your house doesn't smell like shit all the time," Sasha said with a wink.

Danielle gave them a stroller - a Peg-Perego, the "fancy baby stroller all the cool moms have." It had an elongated handle and a million pockets and cupholders and gadgets attached to its sleek frame - a bit like Danielle herself, Santana thought.

Elinor gave them a Pack 'n Play portable crib, "so you never have an excuse to not visit," she explained with a grin.

Nicole, to her credit, gave them a gorgeously detailed wooden high-chair, saying she had noticed Brittany checking it out when they were shopping the other week. Santana warmed to her a bit: though she was ignorant and filter-less, she really did care for Brittany, and she _was_ trying.

Vickie went last because of her status as matriarch of the Pierce family - and Brittany said she wanted to save the best for last anyway. First, Vickie handed Brittany a thin white envelope, saying it was "from Gordon and me." Brittany opened it, taking out a piece of paper with a bank logo on it. Santana leaned over her shoulder, reading the print.

"It's... it's a savings bond for Baby's college fund," Brittany explained to the rest of the group. "That's so generous... thanks mom," she grinned, "and dad," she added, looking to the side, since he wasn't there. She blew her mom kisses and Vickie caught each one.

Vickie smiled and pulled out a gift from behind her back. She handed it to Brittany, who opened the card on top and read out loud. "Always hold the people you love most closest. I'm so proud of you, Britt-Bee. From one mother to another, Love, Mom-soon-to-be-Grandma." Brittany grinned and looked up at her mother for a minute, blinking more than usual. Santana thought she could see a hint of tears in Brittany's eyes. Before Santana could tell for sure, Brittany looked back down at the box in her hand and slid her index finger under the tape, unfolding the paper without ripping it. She opened the box and pulled out a very long strip of jersey knit fabric.

"I call it a snuggler," Vickie explained. "It's my favorite piece of baby gear. I'll have to show you how to tie it. I loved it because your little arms and legs didn't hang out and it balanced the weight over my torso and helped me relax my back. You stayed nice and cozy and usually fell right asleep. It's perfect from birth through about six months. Some of my favorite moments as a new mom were with you in the snuggler, so I wanted you to have one."

"Aw, it's perfect, Mom," Brittany murmured, holding the fabric to her chest. "Thank you!"

Brittany grinned, lifting the box off her lap as she made to stand up to hug her mom, but Vickie beat her to it: she sprang off her chair and hugged Brittany back down on the couch, giving her a kiss on her cheek. They held each other for a moment and Santana heard Brittany whisper, _I love you, Mom_. Santana watched with an adoring smile, but inside she felt a twinge of hurt. Her own mom wouldn't be giving her a snuggler or even a kiss on the cheek anytime soon. Dolores wasn't going to react well to their exciting news at all -at best, she would grudgingly accept that there was a baby on the way, and at worst... well, Santana didn't want to go there.

Vickie returned to her seat; she reached under it and pulled out another gift, which she handed to Santana. Santana passed the box to Brittany.

"No, that one's for you, Santana," Vickie corrected. "Brittany's not the only one who gets presents today, Mamacita."

"Oh! Um, thanks," Santana mumbled. She straightened up a little. She hadn't thought any of the focus today would be on her. She thought of it as Brittany's shower. She gave Vickie a sheepish smile as she slid the card out from under the ribbon, tearing open the envelope and pulling out the card.

On the front of the card was a dark-skinned, dark-haired, dark-eyed baby reaching up to the sky from where it was seated on the ground. She opened the card and silently read the single sentence Vickie had written: _To my grandbaby's other mother; some of the dearest children are born not in our bodies, but in our hearts._

Santana looked up at Vickie and gave a shy, thankful nod before opening the box. Inside was a fitted white cotton shirt with a scoop neck. When Santana unfolded it, she saw there was a heart about the size of her fist with the words _Expectant Mother _written inside. The words would rest right over her heart when she wore it.

Santana refolded the shirt and set it back in the box, blinking and looking away. She wasn't sure what was more overwhelming: Vickie trying to offset others who would pass Santana over because she wasn't the birth mother, or the ache in her chest that her own mother wasn't there. As Vickie gestured for Santana to stand so she could pull the shirt over Santana's head, Santana had to keep swallowing and blinking to make sure she didn't cry. In this moment, her own mother's absence seemed like an old hurt, but being acknowledged by Brittany's mother as an equal parent was new: it made her heart swell and her throat tighten. She could almost forget the things others had said; Nicole, Finn, and - most painfully - Hayley.

"Thanks," Santana whispered, not trusting her voice to stay steady. It was quiet enough that she knew only Brittany and Vickie would hear, so she added, "Thanks, mom."

Vickie cupped Santana's face in her hands, looking at her with pride for a moment before leaning forward to kiss Santana's forehead.

"You can always come to me, ya hear?" Vickie murmured. "I know a few things about being a new mom."

Santana swallowed again and nodded as Vickie looked at her for another moment before giving her a nod and turning back to her chair.

Santana looked back around the circle at their friends, blinking and smiling and trying to hide how overwhelmed she felt. She was about to suggest they play another game - _anything_ to change the subject and stop her impending breakdown.

But before she could speak, Nicole spoke up. "So... where's _your_ mom, Santana?" It wasn't accusatory or even cold; Nicole was genuinely curious, maybe even a little concerned.

Everyone else at the party went very quiet and still, eyes flitting between Santana and Nicole. The ache in Santana's chest grew a hundred times worse.

"I um... I haven't told her yet," Santana admitted, keeping her head down.

"Really?" Nicole frowned. "How come?"

Santana caught Sasha shooting Nicole a murderous look.

"She uh... she kind of has a hard time with me and Brittany," Santana said, looking between Sasha and Nicole.

"Oh, that uh, that-" Nicole stuttered, "that sucks. I'm sorry."

Santana shrugged, giving Nicole a look of feigned indifference. But Santana knew she wasn't fooling anyone.

Ever keen on Santana's nearness to tears, Elinor piped up. "Who wants more cake?"

"I do!" sang Kelsey and Sasha and Hayley, grateful for the change of subject.

"Come help me in the kitchen, Santana," Elinor said.

Santana nodded thankfully, got up, and followed Elinor into the kitchen, relieved to get some respite from the pitying looks of all her friends.

* * *

><p>"So… when <em>are<em> you gonna tell your parents, Santana?" Brittany asked that night as they washed the dishes after dinner. Her tone was gentle and concerned - she knew it was a sensitive subject, but she also knew Santana would avoid the task until it was absolutely necessary.

Santana stood next to her, still wearing her _Expectant Mother_ shirt. "I dunno… soon," Santana said, shrugging as she dried the plate in her hands. Her tone was too light to convince Brittany she wasn't nervous about it.

"Maybe we should take a trip back to Lima this weekend," Brittany offered, still trying to sound casual.

"We have childbirth class," Santana dodged, setting the plate on the counter with the other one she had just dried.

"Not on Sunday," Brittany argued, dipping her hands into the soap suds and pulling out a cup to scrub. "Let's go. We can tell them _together_." The way she said _together_ was so soft, so longing, and so sweet, Santana almost agreed. But then Santana thought about what would most likely happen when she told her parents, and she wanted Brittany as far from it as possible.

Santana paused before mumbling, "I don't want you to come."

Brittany frowned, looking up from the sink at Santana. "Why not?"

"Because I just _don't_," Santana bluffed. It came out harsher than she meant it. She wiped a single drip of water off the center of the plate she had just set down.

"But I want to support you," Brittany replied. Again, her voice was too sweet to leave hanging without explanation.

"I know… I- just. I-" Santana stuttered and sighed. "If they said anything unsupportive and you were there, I think I would lose it. Literally _lose_ it," she stressed. "I'm really protective of you right now and I _know_ it's really unattractive, but I just can't handle the thought of anyone hurting your feelings. Not when I can prevent it."

Brittany tilted her head, letting the cup slip back under the water as she gave Santana a sad smile. "Sweetie, I can handle it. I'm secure in who we are and what we're doing. I want to be there for you."

Santana avoided her eyes, running the corner of the dishtowel over the ridge of the counter. "I appreciate that Britt, and I know you could handle it… But I don't think _I_ could." Just _talking_ about telling her parents made her want to leave the room, as if that would stop her hands from fidgeting and her chest from tensing. She finally looked up, meeting Brittany's gaze with an apologetic grimace. "Ever since we found out you're pregnant, you know my brain has been all screwy. But I'll go. I mean, I have to tell them at _some_ point," Santana admitted, ducking her head again and shrugging.

"Let me go with you," Brittany pressed. "I'll drive you there and hold your hand while you tell them."

"No, Britt!" Santana said, her patience breaking. She set her dishtowel down on the counter. "You don't know what my mother can be like!"

Brittany was taken aback at Santana's outburst. She stepped away from the sink. "You don't have to get all upset about it," she mumbled, crossing her arms over her bump and looking at the floor. "I'm just trying to support you. Every step of the way together, right?"

Santana sighed again, giving her an apologetic and pained look, softening. "I know..." she murmured. "I know, Britt. And you're so sweet to offer. But please, stay _here_ and support me. Please."

Brittany gave her one last plaintive look.

"_Please_," Santana repeated. "I'll call you right after and when I get home we can go out to eat, okay? I know we said we'd do everything together, but... this isn't about us or the baby. This is about me and my parents."

Brittany gave a resigned but approving nod, pulling the drain from the sink and emptying the suds. She dried her hands and kissed Santana on the cheek as she turned to walk back into the living room.

Santana stood leaning against the counter for a moment, watching the water drain until just a few soggy clouds of soap bubbles remained. As they slid towards the drain, Santana had an impending, sickening sense of dread. The task had always been there, but now? Now she actually had to face the music.


	68. The Moment I Said It

**Chapter 68: The Moment I Said It**

Soundtrack for this chapter: "The Moment I Said It" by Imogen Heap.

**A/N: In my hurry to publish the last chapter, I neglected to thank my betas, which I believe to be inexcusable. I have the most fantastic creative team. They do so much more than beta; they help me keep the emotional and structural content consistent and realistic; they provide inspiration and motivation to keep writing; sometimes they even help me find words and descriptions when I'm blocked. So please thank them: Mia, terriblemuriel, Emma's 409, and new to the beta team, Sapphic Charmer.**

* * *

><p>As Santana drove towards Lima a few days later to tell her parents, she imagined Brittany was in the passenger seat with her. Not the real, pregnant, imperfect and human Brittany, but the ethereal, ever-patient, glowing and faultless Brittany she held in her mind and in her heart. This second version, the dream version of Brittany, was always strong, always gentle, always confident, and held Santana's hand even when the real Brittany was far away. Dream Brittany never got sick and would never get wrinkles and always knew the perfect thing to say. Dream Brittany believed Santana was limitless. Dream Brittany made Santana feel like she had nothing to be afraid of.<p>

But as much as Santana hoped that everything would be easy today, that both her father and mother would be happy for her and would send her back to Columbus with words of encouragement, she was prepared for a likely letdown. She had been hurt by her parents' silence too many times to think today would be any different. She faced the possibility that she would drive home with her fears confirmed: her parents would never be proud of her, they would never accept Brittany, and that they thought Santana was doing something awful by starting a family. Juxtaposed with the joy Santana felt when she pressed her hand to Brittany's belly, her present anxiety was almost too painful to stomach.

She had decided to tell her parents separately, starting with her father. Antonio, with his soft voice and gentler personality, was more likely to be happy for her and Brittany, but he would only show it if Dolores wasn't around. Santana hung her hopes on him. If he could be happy for her, that would be enough. She hoped.

And if both her parents were supportive? Well, it was almost too much to hope for.

Reminding herself of why she was doing this, she thought of Brittany at home, lying on the couch or puttering around the kitchen, making herbal tea and maybe a plate of crackers and cheese to go with her olives. As Santana pictured her, she could almost see an aura around Brittany, something sacred and shimmering around her that seemed to flow from Brittany herself. When Santana was near her or pictured her, her belly steadily swelling with the life she would soon be bringing into the world, Santana wondered how anyone could be less than overjoyed at the thought of that child. If she could share her joy with the two people who had prepared for and celebrated her own birth, she would be the happiest woman in the world.

Santana took several deep breaths of cold December air as she walked up the steps of the hospital where her father worked. She felt unsteady, as though the wind could tip her over with a mere puff. She gripped the container of food she held in her hands, as if holding something concrete would ground her. She went through the sliding doors and up the elevator to the familiar yet sterile floor her father had worked on for most of her life, sighing in relief as her skin warmed in the heated building. She stopped at the nurses' station, leaning on the counter and looking around to see if she knew any of the employees there these days. She didn't.

Soon she saw Antonio walking down the corridor towards her.

"Hi, dad!" she greeted, waving. She cringed as she realized she was being excessively enthusiastic to cover her nerves.

"Hi, Santana," he said, smiling as he approached. "So nice of you to invite me to have lunch with you. I see you so infrequently, I'm glad I could take a break."

"Yeah, me too." Santana thought about hugging him, but that felt forced right now. She was too nervous.

"Shall we go to the cafeteria?" Antonio suggested, gesturing with his hand. "We just got a new caterer and it's not half bad."

"That sounds good," Santana said, bobbing her head, "but I brought food." She extended the containers in her hand. "Britt made us some sandwiches. She wanted to make your favorite Puerto Rican meatloaf but I told her I didn't think that would travel well."

"You spoil me," Antonio teased with a smile, accepting the Tupperware Santana held out. "Sandwiches are just fine."

They slid into a table by the window in the cafeteria, looking out at the cars and flowerbeds as they took bites of their food. But Santana could barely eat; her mouth was dry and her stomach churned. She remembered eating in this cafeteria a few times as a child, looking out at the flowers. But by this time of year, nighttime frosts had killed the flowers and the snow had covered them, leaving only pillowy, sparkling snow.

Finally, Santana gave up trying to force down food and set her sandwich down in her Tupperware, pushing the lid back on until it gave a satisfying pop. She couldn't put this off any more. Her heart sped up as she took a shaky breath. "So I came here to tell you something," she said, dusting the crumbs off her hands and wiping her mouth.

"You're getting married," Antonio stated, contemplating the second half of his sandwich in his hands. "I know. I saw the ring last Christmas."

Santana touched the ring around her neck. It had been there so long, she sometimes forgot about it until it tangled in her hair or someone eyed it pointedly.

"Well, yes. When it's legal, we _will_ get married. But that's not what I came to tell you."

Antonio sat in silence, chewing and waiting for Santana to continue.

Santana took a breath, stepping over the inevitable precipice.

"Brittany and I are expecting a baby."

Antonio's chewing paused and his eyebrows shifted up just a fraction of an inch.

"We used a donor," Santana explained, preempting any questions he might have. "Someone we trust with traits we want to pass on to our child."

Antonio resumed his chewing, studying his sandwich as he swallowed. He cleared his throat as he eyed Santana's stomach. "Who's carrying?"

"Brittany. She's due in March."

Antonio looked surprised as he met Santana's eyes. "She's six months already," he stated.

Studying his face as she nodded, Santana realized he looked hurt. She felt a pang of guilt she had not expected.

"Why didn't you tell—" Antonio stopped, not wanting to know the answer. "Well— how is she?" he asked instead, leaning into the medical side of things because it was what he was familiar with.

"She's fantastic. She and the baby are as healthy as can be. She's got connections through nursing school and we've got the _best_ prenatal care in Columbus," Santana assured.

Antonio gave a faint nod, looking at Santana as though he were seeing her for the first time in many years. It _had _been almost a year. But he was looking at her as though she'd gone to bed fifteen and woken up twenty-eight.

Seeing her father's surprise, Santana gave him a tentative, reassuring smile. "We're really excited to start our family."

Antonio nodded and looked back at his sandwich. Instead of taking another bite, he smiled and looked back at her. "I remember that excitement. It was terrifying."

Santana felt a wave of relief, realizing her father understood a little — maybe a lot — of what she was going through. "Tell me about it. I hardly sleep," she said, the corners of her mouth curling up in a commiserative smile.

"It doesn't get easier after the pregnancy," Antonio said, raising his eyebrows as he reminisced. "Parenting is a _big_ job, Santana," he stated, his tone serious.

"I know..." Santana said, her anxiety returning at her father's candidness. Still, she thought she saw a faint hint of a smile as he dragged a napkin across his mouth.

"But," Antonio added as his grin spread, "I think you're up for it."

Santana beamed, leaning forward on the table as relief spread through her limbs and warmed her from the inside out. Antonio saw her smile and grinned wider, as though welcoming her to a club he'd been part of for decades. As Santana grinned back at him, she recognized his expression, however subtle: he was _proud_ of her.

And in that moment, everything was right in the world.

When the moment passed, she stretched her arm across the table and gave him a playful nudge with her fist. "So are you ready to be a grandpa?" she teased.

Antonio chuckled and ran his hand through his hair. "I'm certainly grey enough," he remarked. As he drew his hand down, he brought it to rest on Santana's arm, giving it a gentle pat.

"Grandpa..." he murmured, trying the word on to see if it fit. He smirked and looked out the window.

Santana looked at his hand where it rested on her arm, weathered and dry from being washed between every patient he'd seen for the last thirty years. They were big, sturdy hands that would be able to wrap almost all the way around a toddler as he lifted it into the air, laughing as the child squealed in delight.

They smiled as they sat in comfortable silence for a minute, Santana basking in the relief that her father had responded kindly, dreaming of all the things she'd be able to share with him.

"I'm really glad you're okay with this," Santana murmured. "It means a lot to me."

Antonio smiled and nodded, but Santana's smile faded as she remembered her task for the day was only half over. She glanced at his hand on her arm and took a risk.

"Do you think… do you think you could tell mom for me?" she asked, ever hopeful. The possibility of not having to face her mother had never been more appealing. All she wanted to do was bask in her father's smile, taking its warmth with her back to Columbus.

Antonio's smile faded as quickly as Santana's had. He drew his hand away, rubbing the back of his neck with it. "Ay… Santana... I don't think I'll be able to answer all her questions," he mumbled.

Santana looked down at table, knocking her heel quietly against the leg of her chair. "Yeah. I get it," she said, trying to brush her disappointment away with a wave of her hand. "I'll tell her myself."

But despite her efforts to cling to her relief and joy at her father's reaction, it now seemed diluted. Her father still wasn't willing to stand up to her mother and be proud of her.

"I'm sorry, pumpkin. You know how she is about... things that are new to her," Antonio said softly.

"Yeah…" Santana mumbled.

She wanted to change the subject as quickly as possible, so she asked about his work. They made small talk for a little while as Antonio finished his sandwich. The conversation reached a lull and there were a few moments of silence before he looked at his watch.

"Well… my lunch break is almost over. I'm glad I got to see you. We should have lunch together more often."

Santana gave him a smile as she agreed. He stood and gave her a pat on the shoulder, squeezing it.

"Tell Brittany congratulations from me," he said, holding her at arms' length before giving a quick nod and walking out of the cafeteria.

Santana stayed rooted to the spot for a minute, not wanting to forget anything about what had just happened. He hadn't been angry or disappointed. He had been _proud_. But Santana wished — for _once_— he could express anything remotely like what she felt inside when she thought of starting a family with Brittany. If her father had been able to show just how happy he was for her, it might have given her more courage for the task that lay just a few miles away: telling her mother.

* * *

><p>Santana pulled up to her parents' house, setting the car in park but leaving the keys in the ignition. She wasn't quite ready to go in, but she didn't want to freeze to death. She tilted her head back against the headrest, wishing for a fleeting moment she had let Brittany come with her, if only to breathe words of encouragement in her ear. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine what Brittany would say if she were here. But her heart pounded so loudly in her ears, she couldn't think of anything but the long walk up to the front door.<p>

Before she could even think about what came after ringing the doorbell, there was a rapping on her window. She opened her eyes, startled. Her mother was bending over, peering into her window.

"Santana?" Dolores shouted through the glass, frowning. "What on earth are you doing here?"

Santana shut off the engine and took a sharp breath through her nose, kicking herself into action. She took her purse out of the passenger seat and opened the door, plastering on a brave smile as she got out.

"Hi, mom," she greeted. She contemplated fibbing that she was in town with Brittany for the weekend, but she didn't want to create any tangles she would have to get out of later. She had come to do one thing, and one thing alone. "I came to visit you."

"Oh!" Dolores said, clearly surprised. "Well... it's _freezing_ out here," she said, clutching her sweater to her. "Come inside."

Santana followed her mother up the walkway, adjusting and readjusting her purse strap on her shoulder.

When they got inside, Dolores offered her a cup of coffee. They sat at the kitchen table, blowing the steam away in awkward silence. "So to what do I owe this visit?" Dolores finally asked.

Santana sat up straight, placing her coffee cup on the kitchen table as she leaned forward. The longer she dragged this out, the harder it would be to tell her mother what she came to say.

"Well… I came by to tell you something really exciting," Santana began. She tried to make her voice casual, hoping it would spur her mother to react favorably.

"What is it?" Dolores asked, tilting her head as she continued blowing on her coffee.

Santana had prepared a speech on her drive from Columbus. She had thought of all the ways she could break this to her mother, pondering which one would best soften the blow. Now she couldn't remember any of what she had planned. But suddenly she had a better idea: frame the news in terms of what it meant for _Dolores_, not for her and Brittany. It was what Brittany would have done.

"Well..." Santana took a breath, looking into her mother's eyes before averting her gaze to her coffee. "You're going to be a grandma." Santana looked back up at Dolores and gave her a hesitant smile.

In the split-second it took Santana's smile to reach Dolores, Dolores gasped. "Why didn't you tell me!" she cried, a smile spreading across her face. "That's wonderful, Santana!"

Santana's heart skipped a beat. This was better than _any_ reaction she could have imagined. "I, um... I didn't know you'd be so happy!" she said, beaming. She wanted to leap into her mother's arms.

Dolores had never looked so elated. "Of course I'm happy, querida! Oh, this is _wonderful_ news... When are you getting married?" Dolores' eyes flashed with excitement, as though she was already thinking of addressing wedding invitations and birth announcements.

Santana was overjoyed. Her chest filled with pride, swelling as she sat up straight and mirrored her mother's smile. "As soon as this bill passes the state senate and the governor signs it into law. I've got the ring right here," she said, patting the necklace.

"But you must get married _now_!" Dolores said, stiffening with indigence.

Santana gave her mother a curious frown. This wasn't making sense. Dolores had gone from ignoring her relationship with Brittany to insisting they get married? Santana was almost afraid to ask why.

"Whoever got you pregnant needs to take responsibility for his child and make you an honest woman!" Dolores said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "What's his name, Santana? When do I get to meet him?" she bubbled, clearly thrilled.

Santana deflated like a balloon. She ducked her head, unable to meet her mother's eyes as her stomach curled. She slouched, feeling limp and ill. It _had_ been too good to be true. Her heart felt gripped in a vice, squeezing tight and throbbing painfully in her chest. She wasn't sure she'd be able to correct her mother when she was so happy. This task suddenly seemed more torturous than she could have imagined. Dolores must have sensed Santana withdraw, because she grew quiet and a little tense, waiting for Santana to speak.

Santana traced her thumb over the handle of her coffee mug. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she murmured, "Brittany's pregnant. Our baby's due in March."

Santana dared to glance up at her mother and saw Dolores' face flicker in the most bizarre array of expressions. First was confusion, then shock, then anger, and finally, Dolores looked away, her eyes flitting around the kitchen as if she had walked in and forgotten what she came for. She pursed her lips, blinking as she clasped and unclasped her hands a few times.

Dolores' voice was small when she finally spoke. "Why did you tell me I'm going to be a grandma?"

Santana sighed. The elated reaction she _thought_ her mother was having only made this worse. She knew she had to explain everything, starting with the most basic information. She kept her voice soft and reached her hand across the table, almost as if she were going to take her mother's in her own. But she didn't. She just let it rest, palm up. "Mom... Brittany isn't just my friend. You know that. I know it makes you uncomfortable, but... I want to be able to talk to you about my life. And she's a big part of it."

To Santana's surprise, Dolores pursed her lips and nodded, still looking around the room. After a moment, she murmured, "I know she's good to you."

Santana certainly hadn't expected that. She felt her chest start to fill again, albeit hesitantly. Perhaps this trip to Lima hadn't been for naught. "She _is_ good to me," Santana echoed, voice still soft as she gave her mother a warm nod. "I'm really looking forward to raising children with her."

Dolores contemplated her coffee for a minute.

"But... why would you raise Brittany's baby?" Dolores asked, furrowing her brow as though she truly didn't understand. "I know you're... _fond_ of her. But shouldn't the father be doing that?"

Santana bit her lip. Here was that painful subject again. But this time she was prepared for it. Remembering the shirt Vickie had given her, she put her hand over her heart, reassuring herself that the child was being born from her heart at the same time as Brittany's body.

"It's not just Brittany's baby, mama. It's _our_ baby. We're a family just like you and me and dad."

Dolores sighed before bringing her coffee to her mouth and taking a long sip. As she set the cup back on the table, she said, "I think Brittany should raise her baby with the person who did this to her."

"She's going to," Santana assured. "We planned this. We're making a family together."

"Santana... don't throw away everything you've worked for. Two girls can't _make_ a baby," Dolores said. She sounded almost apologetic, as if she were breaking bad news to Santana.

"Yes they can," Santana said, still gentle, as if coaxing Dolores out of the house into the sunlight after ten years. "You know that. There are whole clinics devoted to donor insemination. I bet they even do it at Mercy. Straight couples do it too. It's not that uncommon."

Dolores contemplated this for a moment.

Santana continued. "I was there for the baby's conception, the first sonogram, and I'll be there for the birth, first steps, first words, and everything after."

"But what will happen when the father comes and wants to-"

"The donor has no interest in raising Brittany's baby," Santana blurted, her heart speeding up just a bit.

Dolores looked directly at Santana, raising an eyebrow. "It _is_ Brittany's baby, Santana," she echoed. "Not yours."

"No, I—" Santana stuttered, "I meant the baby Brittany's carrying. For _us_."

Dolores sighed and looked down. Her hand curled around her coffee cup, as if it would ground her. She turned sideways in her chair and stared at the ground. Santana didn't know what to do, or what her response meant. After a painful twenty seconds, Santana heard Dolores sniffle and realized she was crying.

Santana was startled. She had been prepared for Dolores' harsh words, dismissal, even anger. But she had _never_ expected her mother to cry. It made her nervous, her stomach turning into a new kind of knot.

"Why are you crying, ma?" Santana asked.

Dolores sniffled again before wiping her far cheek and sighing. "I just always hoped, you know? Hoped things would turn out okay for you..."

Santana felt her heart drop. She was sad her mother couldn't see her happiness. "Things turned out _more_ than okay for me, mom," she murmured. "I've got a great job and good friends. I'm getting married to someone I love more than anything in the world... and we're having a _baby_." She couldn't help but smile and squeeze her shoulders up at the last word. "No one's life is ever perfect, but I couldn't ask for much more," Santana assured her. _Anything more than your approval_.

"I just hoped —maybe…" Dolores halted, frown fixed on her coffee mug. "I guess maybe I was fooling myself, thinking you'd give this up. Earlier I thought you were telling me..." she trailed off, staring at the table.

Santana drew back a bit, sitting taller. "I wouldn't give up something that made me so happy."

Dolores squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop herself from crying. It was strange for Santana. Had she _ever_ seen her mother cry? She didn't think so.

Dolores' voice was wounded when she spoke. "Did I do something wrong, Santana?"

It pained Santana to see her mother break over something that made her so happy. She wasn't sure what to say. How could she answer her? Dolores was far from being a perfect mother. Santana was torn between being honest and being kind. She bit her lip.

_Yes, mom, you_did_do something wrong. You were cold and stubborn and you hardly ever showed me that you loved me. You ignored and dismissed the love of my life. You never came to visit me. You made dad feel like he couldn't be happy for me. You stopped being my mom when you found out I wasn't perfect._

But she knew Dolores was asking if she had done something to make Santana gay. So Santana steeled herself, swallowed and shook her head. "No, ma. You didn't do anything wrong."

Dolores shrugged and shook her head, as if to shake the blame from herself. "Well, Brittany's certainly going to have a lot on her hands," she sighed.

"We both will," Santana reminded her. "I hear parenting is a big job." She gave her mother a tentative smile, recalling her father's grin as he welcomed her to the circle of parenthood.

Dolores shot her a disappointed look. "You shouldn't give up everything you've worked for just because Brittany decided to have a baby. Did she ask you for this? To give up your life to help her?"

Santana inhaled, trying to keep her voice calm. "No, ma. We _both_ wanted this baby. Just because I'm a lesbian doesn't mean I don't want kids."

"But it's not really your child, Santana!" Dolores said, her tone growing accusatory.

"It _is_ my child," Santana argued, feeling herself start to burn. "Brittany and I planned our family together, and we even used a Puerto Rican donor so the child would represent both of us. We're planning to raise it bilingual."

Dolores' look of accusation grew strained. "Using a Puerto Rican donor doesn't make it your child any more than it does mine. The baby will know you're not its _real_ mother. You're a smart girl, Santana. You know that."

Santana winced but tried to conceal it. "It's just like adoption, mom," she reasoned. "I don't think I have to give birth to a child to love it and think of it as mine."

Dolores gave her a skeptical look.

"If I'd been adopted you still would have loved me," Santana stated, uncertainty ringing in her voice. Phrasing it as a question felt too dangerous.

Dolores said nothing, so Santana continued, filling the anxious void.

"I'm really excited. The baby shower, the prenatal visits, getting the nursery ready... it's _all_ exciting. I can't wait to be a mom."

Dolores still didn't respond, so Santana decided to try another route. Maybe relating her own experience to her mother's would help.

"I talked to dad earlier. He said he remembered how excited and scared he was before I was born. Do you remember that, mom? Remember how excited you were?"

After another strained moment of silence, Dolores stood and walked toward the kitchen sink. Without answering Santana's question, she dumped out her coffee, muttering, "You were born five months after I married your father."

Santana was taken aback, shocked by what her mother was implying.

Before Santana could fully process what her mother had said, Dolores spun around, crossing her arms as she eyed Santana up and down. "I gave up my _dreams_ to raise you, Santana, and it's been one disappointment after another. We gave you every advantage: tutors, cars, fancy clothes, a college education... I always tried to do right by you and _this_ is how you repay me," she spat. "Being a mother sure as hell isn't all it's cracked up to be." After a moment she continued, "I just hope to god Brittany's baby doesn't turn out like _you,_Santana. But with you acting as a _parent_," she air-quoted the word, as if the venom in her tone were not sufficient, "I suppose it's inevitable."

Santana felt punched in the gut as Dolores turned back to the sink and slammed a few plates around. As she turning on the water and rinsed a plate, she brushed her shoulder against her face, wiping off tears Santana couldn't see. After a moment, even washing the dishes became too much, and Dolores leaned forward, sobbing as her hands rested in the dirty pans.

Santana was done. She was done trying, she was done being quiet, she was done playing by Dolores' rules. There was nothing she wanted to salvage from her relationship with her mother if all Dolores did was stifle her joy. Santana stood, smoothed her skirt, and took a deep, controlled breath through her nose, holding back the venom and tears that were burning in her throat. She picked up her coffee cup and walked towards the sink. Setting it next to the stream of water, she looked directly at her mother. Dolores refused to meet her gaze as she said:

"If my child ends up being happy, successful, and deeply committed to someone they love, I will feel like a _wonderful _mother."

With that she went back to her chair, picked up her purse, and walked out of her parents' house with her chin held high, vowing to never come back.

* * *

><p>The two-hour drive back to Columbus flew by, blurred by Santana's tears. She debated calling Brittany, but she knew she couldn't keep the sound of her tears out of her voice and she didn't want to worry Brittany when she was still a ways away. She couldn't believe her mother had just spat out the fact that she'd been an unwanted surprise. It explained <em>so<em> much.

But what plagued Santana most was the way her mother had taunted her with her insecurities about what would happen after the baby arrived: Would Santana feel like it was her baby? Could she really be a good parent? Would her child love her as much as it loved Brittany? All the doubts and fears that had been simmering under the surface bubbled over and it was impossible to contain them. Santana wiped her eyes with her sleeve as she held the steering wheel steady in her other hand, being careful to avoid icy patches on the road. Before she knew it she had pulled into her parking space at their apartment.

Santana collected herself before going inside. She _needed_ Brittany right now, but she didn't want to be a hysterical, crying mess. She wanted Brittany to focus on herself and her pregnancy and not be burdened by the antics of the Lopez family. She walked in the door with a painful smile on her face.

"How did it go?" Brittany asked, her rounded body tilted toward Santana. Santana hoped her face wasn't puffy from crying.

"Um," Santana began, trying to stay calm as her smile faded, "Well… at least our baby has _your_ parents."

Something about Brittany's presence always unraveled Santana, and she couldn't hold herself in as tightly as she wanted to. She blinked, clenching her stomach as she tried desperately to keep herself together. "I don't think my parents will… _come to_…" the last few words squeaked out as her face scrunched up with tears and she leaned into Brittany's arms.

"Oh…" Brittany cooed, wrapping her up. "Oh, sweetheart… I'm _so_ sorry…"

Brittany guided them to the couch, sinking into it and pulling Santana's legs across her lap. She rubbed Santana's back in big circles as she cried. At first Santana shook, her sobs choking and loud, but gradually they dimmed into whimpers and sniffles. Finally she tilted her head out of the crook of Brittany's neck, staring across the couch out the window.

Santana looked at the tree outside their apartment, seeing the branches burdened with snow. When a breeze rustled the branches and a pallet of snow fell down, Santana felt herself crumple as the branch sprung back up, buoyant and relieved. Was she just like that snow, weighing others down? Knowing now that her mother had always thought of her as a nuisance, a weight that had robbed her of her dreams, she felt she could never be anything but a burden to the people in her life. Even curled into Brittany's side, she felt too heavy for anyone to be able to withstand her presence.

Yet out of her despair, Santana also felt a rising anger. Dolores had dropped a bomb on her the very day Santana told her _she_ was going to be a mother. Instead of being happy for her, she had tainted Santana's good news with her bitterness and resentment. It seemed Dolores was hell-bent on depriving Santana of joy. Santana remembered the way her father's smile had crept its way over his face as he'd repeated the word _grandpa_, and the elation she felt in that moment. How dare her mother take that moment away from her! She wasn't just angry. She was furious to the point of breaking down. Holding that fury was exhausting.

"Do you think there's a limit to forgiveness, Britt?" she asked through wet sniffles.

Unable to see Santana's face, Brittany traced the fingers of her free hand over Santana's knee, as if it were a substitute for wiping her cheeks. "I don't know, sweetheart… I don't know."

Santana sniffled and exhaled a hot, gasping breath against Brittany's neck. "I don't know if I can ever forgive my mom for what she said today."

Brittany paused for a moment, seeming cautious. Finally she asked, "What did she say?"

"She said," Santana hiccuped, "that she never planned to have me and that I basically ruined her life. That she _hated_ being a mom."

Brittany gasped. Her hand abruptly stopped circling against Santana's back. She was as floored as Santana had been at Dolores' admission.

Santana continued, her voice pinching as her throat closed. "She thinks I'm throwing away everything I've worked for and that everyone will know the baby isn't mine. And then she said… she said- she didn't want your baby to end up like _me_!"

Brittany gasped louder, mouth falling open as she squeezed Santana as tightly as she could, tucking her deeper into her neck and pressing her against her chest and round belly. "It's _our_ baby, Santana, and don't listen to a _word_ she said! Not a _single_ word, okay?"

Santana shook as she sobbed, her face mashed against Brittany's collarbone, mascara staining her shirt. Brittany held her like that until her cries we soft enough that she could hear.

"This baby is a result of everything you've worked for," Brittany cooed, rubbing Santana's back again. "It's _absolutely_ yours. Without you, our baby wouldn't exist."

"But even the law says it's not mine!" Santana protested.

"Santana," Brittany murmured with a smile, as though trying to get her drop a joke.

But Santana wasn't joking, letting her deepest, most irrational insecurities unravel. "If you ever decided to leave me you could just take the baby and I wouldn't be able to stop you!" she sobbed.

"Santana!" Brittany gasped. "Stop it!"

In her mind, Santana imagined she was holding their baby as it wailed, reaching desperately for Brittany. A few years later the same child ran past her into Brittany's arms while Santana, lacking in maternal instinct entirely, fumbled for words to comfort the child. The same child grew up to slam doors in her face, ignore her rules, and go to Brittany with every scraped knee, homework assignment and heartbreak.

"Maybe my mom is right!" Santana said, her body tensing as she let her fears tumble out. "I have nothing tying me to this baby. It will grow up knowing that I'm not its real mom and it will probably _hate_ me."

"Santana Lopez, look at me this instant," Brittany commanded.

Santana drew her head back and looked up at Brittany, seeing her expression that was fierce, yet soft. She gazed up at Brittany, her face pleading and desperate.

_Don't let me go_, Santana thought. _Don't let me go._

"If you are truly worried that this baby won't think of you as its real mom, we haven't been talking enough," Brittany said, her eyes watering as she looked solemnly into Santana's eyes.

Santana swallowed and nodded, her gaze flickering away from Brittany. Brittany waited until Santana's eyes drifted back near her, alighting on Brittany's stomach.

Brittany followed Santana's gaze, looking at her belly as she spoke. "It hurts me so much to see you upset over something that I know isn't true."

Santana looked away, cursing herself for getting Brittany upset. She was supposed to be the strong one right now, to walk with Brittany through her pregnancy, removing anything difficult from her path. Brittany's tears made her feel even weaker, if that were possible.

"Santana, look at me," Brittany insisted. "You are this baby's mother and you have _so_ much to give. Look at that big heart… you see that?" Brittany asked, lifting Santana's chin.

"…What?" Santana murmured, hesitantly looking back at Brittany's face.

"Running down your face and staining my shirt," Brittany said, giving her a sad smile. "You wouldn't be crying so much if you weren't giving everything you have to this baby. It's _ours_. I can _feel_ it. Our friends know it. My family knows it. And I know Baby already knows it."

Santana contemplated this for a minute. Brittany's words were soft and reliable, like a worn blanket she could wrap around her. But she couldn't block out what her mother had said, like the biting wind she knew would greet her if she ventured outside, no matter how hard she hugged the blanket to her.

"Hayley doesn't think so," Santana whispered.

"What?" Brittany asked, confused.

"Hayley," Santana gulped. "She said so at Thanksgiving when we went to the store."

"She _said_ that?" Brittany asked, shocked.

Santana nodded, resting her head against Brittany's collarbone. "We ran into Finn and they were talking about how I'm not the real mom."

"Oh my god, I can't _believe_ her..." Brittany murmured, looking around the room. "She was so happy for us when I told her... I don't think she thinks that, sweetie..."

"But she still _said_ it," Santana said, trembling. "I'm sure she thinks it, too. At least a little bit."

"Maybe she was just being an airhead because there was a boy around..." Brittany sighed. "But that doesn't make it okay. I'm going to have to tell her she needs to shape up if she wants to spend time with her niece or nephew," Brittany said, burgeoning with self-righteousness.

"You don't have to do that, Britt..." Santana muttered against Brittany's chest, her voice weak from crying.

"I do," Brittany said, her voice turning soft again as she resumed rubbing big circles on Santana's back. "I do..."

Santana rested there for a moment, wanting to seep deep into Brittany, but her mother's words wouldn't let her escape.

_Brittany's baby... You're not its_real_mother... I hope to god it doesn't end up like you._

Her throat closed up again, tears forcing their way out as she tried not to shake. She desperately clung to every reassurance Brittany gave her, but there was one fear she couldn't filter out.

"What if the baby ends up like me?" Santana choked.

"I pray _every_ day that our baby ends up like you, Santana," Brittany replied, her voice soft and deep and earnest. She was no longer trying to comfort Santana, but laying out the deepest part of herself. "If I can help bring another person as loving and passionate as you into the world, that's more than enough for me in this life."

Santana sniffled and her eyes flickered up, uncertain but hopeful. "Really?" she whispered.

"Uh huh," Brittany's eyes met Santana's and held her fast so she couldn't look away. "Every day I come home and lie on this couch and put my hand on my belly. I think of all my wishes for our family and I wish them as hard as I can, sending them up through the ceiling to God or whoever's up there. Of course I wish that our baby is healthy and strong and smart… but also that our baby will be like you."

Santana pictured Brittany lying on the couch where they sat right now, hand on her belly, surrounded by the shimmering glow always Santana imagined around her. Santana didn't think herself capable of ever being so peaceful.

"Even with my temper and my foul mouth and my hysterical crying fits?" Santana sniffled.

Brittany gave her a soft smile and pressed her hand against Santana's back. "Even with those," she nodded. "And then after I've prayed for a little while, I feel so happy thinking about our family that I get sleepy and take a little nap…"

Santana exhaled, calmed by the thought of Brittany in repose with her hand on her belly, drifting into sleep. It was so simple, so beautiful, and so right. No one could touch that image, not even her mother.

"That's sweet," Santana murmured, beginning to feel warm inside. "That's really sweet, Britt." She gingerly put her hand on Brittany's belly.

"Let's make a baby wish together right now," Brittany suggested.

Santana pressed her hand tighter against Brittany's belly, fingers spreading over the firm swell. She closed her eyes and pictured the three of them lying on their bed, the baby snuggled between them. She held on to the image as tightly as she could, trying to put features onto the baby; did it have blue eyes or brown? Brown hair or blond? She couldn't tell, so in her mind she wrapped it in a nest of blankets, only its little mouth and nose and eyes visible. But then she saw herself slowly fading, the baby's gaze directed only at Brittany. She started sniffling again.

"What is it?" Brittany asked. "What wish is making you so sad?"

"I'm… I'm wishing the baby loves me as much as it loves you," Santana whimpered, opening her eyes.

"Oh sweetie, of course it will," Brittany hummed, her gaze warm as she met Santana's.

"How do you know?" Santana pleaded. "You're going to be the one to feed it. It already knows your voice and your heartbeat. It has no reason to love me."

"Children understand things that adults don't," Brittany said, tucking Santana's hair behind her ear and running her fingers through it. "Our baby knows your voice too. And babies don't love someone just because that person feeds them."

"I guess," Santana shrugged, her tone half-hearted.

Brittany looked to the side, contemplating for a minute. "In one of my classes we learned about this study where they put baby monkeys alone in a cage with two puppets that were supposed to be its parents. One of the puppets was made of wire and gave the baby monkey food. The other puppet was soft and warm but didn't have any food. Whenever the baby monkey was scared, it would go cuddle with the soft puppet that didn't have food and its heartbeat would go down."

"That study made you sad, didn't it?" Santana said, observing Brittany's eyes.

"Yeah," Brittany nodded, looking down. "I wish they didn't take the baby monkeys away from their monkey moms… they were probably so scared." She looked back up. "But at least we know our baby will love you even if you don't feed it. And we don't know if I'll be able to feed it either. Not everyone is able to breastfeed."

"I know…"

"You know what else I learned?" Brittany asked, her face growing a bit brighter. "It's possible to induce lactation in non-birthing women. So you could totally nurse our baby if you want to."

"That seems kind of weird," Santana said, wrinkling her nose a little. It hurt because her face was so puffy. "But I'll think about it. Maybe I'd feel more connected to the baby."

Brittany observed Santana's face, a slight frown indicating she still wasn't convinced.

"You know what I just decided?" Brittany said.

"What?"

"You know how we've been talking about our birth plan?"

"Yeah…"

"I want you to be the first person to hold our baby after it's born. Before me or anyone else. They say attachment starts in the first minutes after birth and I want _you_ to get those first few minutes."

Santana's eyes welled up with tears again, but her lips were trembling with a smile. What Brittany was offering was almost too much to accept. "…Really?" she whispered.

"Really. I get the first nine months. I can wait a few minutes while you two catch up."

Santana looked up and down Brittany's face, searching for the crack that would indicate Brittany was uncertain. She found none. "I… I don't know what to say. That's… that's really special, Britt," she stammered.

"Well I think _you're_ pretty special," Brittany grinned. "That's why I'm marrying you and having lady babies with you."

Santana smiled and gave a short, puffing laugh, her eyes starting to clear.

"Hey, I got you something," Brittany said, patting Santana's knee. She sounded hopeful that her gift would cheer Santana up. "Well, it's not really for _you_, but I think you'll like it. It came in the mail yesterday."

"Hm?" Santana said, drawing her head back and wiping her face.

"I'll be right back." Brittany shifted in her seat and struggled just a bit to get up before disappearing into the bedroom. She came back, holding Santana's _Expectant Mother_ shirt in one hand with the other behind her back.

"Put this on first," Brittany instructed, holding the shirt out to Santana.

Santana gave her a pained smile as she pulled the t-shirt over her head, feeling it wipe the tears from her face. When she had pulled it down and adjusted it around her waist, Brittany gave her an approving nod and brought her other hand out from behind her back. A tiny infant onesie unrolled down the bulge of her stomach. On the front was a picture of a baby chicken with two halves of an eggshell beside it. Underneath was the caption '_hatched by two chicks_.'

Santana chuckled and sniffed, her smile making her aware of how puffy her face still was. "It's perfect, B," she said, "I love it."

Brittany rolled the onesie back up and set it on the coffee table, returning to her place next to Santana. Santana slumped onto her shoulder, exhausted from crying.

"Lie down," Brittany encouraged, patting her lap. "You've had a big day."

Santana nodded as she scooted down. Brittany cradled Santana's head in her lap, cupping her cheek. Santana's eyelids fluttered, trying to stay open but settling closed as she turned her head to press her cheek against the swell of Brittany's stomach.

A few minutes later, she felt Brittany jerk beneath her.

"_Santana_!" Brittany whispered, tapping her on the shoulder. Santana opened her eyes wider as Brittany whispered again, louder. "_Santana_!"

Santana jolted upright. "What? Is everything okay? Is it the baby?" she asked, eyes wide and frantic.

Brittany nodded, beaming as she reached for Santana's hand. "Feel here," she said in a hushed voice. She lifted her shirt and placed Santana's hand on the side of her stomach, holding it still and flat.

Nothing happened. Santana glanced between her hand and Brittany's face. After ten seconds, Santana felt a flutter against her palm. She gasped.

"Is that-?" Santana gulped.

Brittany glowed and nodded. "Uh huh."

"That's – that's our _baby_?" Santana stuttered.

"That's our baby," Brittany grinned.

Santana exhaled. "It's really there!"

Brittany giggled as Santana slid off the couch onto her knees in front of Brittany, as if in prayer. Brittany pushed her shirt all the way up so it bunched beneath her breasts. Her stomach was pale and blossomed out from her torso like a crescent moon.

"Wow…" Santana whispered, cradling Brittany's stomach in both hands. "Oh my god, B…" she gazed up at her glowing girlfriend. "I can feel it! There's a baby in there!" she breathed, spreading her fingers across the swell.

"Told ya," Brittany giggled.

Santana felt Brittany's belly quiver as she laughed.

"Does it hurt when it kicks?" Santana asked, eyes still wide.

Brittany shook her head. "No," she mused, "it just feels funny. Kind of like when your eye starts twitching and won't stop, but bigger."

"Oh, Britt… I wish I could feel it!" Santana said in awe, eyes dancing across the skin of Brittany's stomach.

"Whenever I'm with you and I feel a kick, I'll put your hand there," Brittany grinned.

Santana gave her a sad smile. "But I wish I knew what it felt like for _you_. You get to hold our baby every day and I have to wait two and a half more months. That's just… it must feel _so_ amazing!" she uttered, fingers still spread protectively over Brittany's belly.

"You'll be the first to hold our baby in your arms, though."

Santana placed a soft kiss on each of Brittany's tummy freckles, letting her lips rest there for a moment. "_Te estamos esperando_, baby," she said before straightening back up on her knees and meeting Brittany's sparkling eyes.

Brittany took Santana's face between her hands, gazing at her in adoration for a long, breathless moment. She leaned forward, giving Santana deep, earnest kiss that melted away everything that had gone wrong for Santana that day. Pulling away, Brittany looked into Santana's eyes and whispered, "I can't imagine a stronger, more loving person to have a baby with."


	69. Light As A Feather

**Chapter 69 - Light As a Feather**

**Soundtrack for this chapter: "Light As A Feather" by Norah Jones.**

**A/N: A reminder to my lovely readers that I try to stay spoiler-free, so please don't spoil me in your reviews or messages!**

**Please thank these fierce femme fenomenal women who keep my story intelligible: terriblemuriel, HangedLikeADog (formerly HoneyFigsAndDarkChocolate), Emmas409, and Sapphic Charmer.**

* * *

><p>Santana lay face down on the couch, resting her eyes. After the company holiday luncheon, Denton had given everyone the rest of the day off. Santana was relieved; he hadn't been kidding when he said her workload would be piling up soon. She was tired and stressed and just wanted to rest.<p>

She was jolted out of her pre-sleep haze by the sound of Brittany's keys in the door. Brittany entered, her eyes downcast, and shut the door behind her without seeing Santana. She peeled off her coat and dropped it carelessly on the floor. Santana frowned; that was so unlike her. Santana watched as Brittany turned to face the door and rested her forehead against the jamb and sighed heavily. Brittany's shoulders slumped forward and she rested one hand on her belly while the other hung limp by her side. She stood there for a moment before Santana decided she should speak up, letting Brittany know she was there.

"Britt?" Santana said, her voice a bit hoarse through her sleepiness.

Brittany startled away from the door, turning around. "Hey!" she said, eyebrows raised. "I didn't see you there."

Brittany looked exhausted: her eyelids were heavy and she wasn't smiling. At six and a half months pregnant, it really did look like there was a cantaloupe pillowed under her shirt. Her steps seemed heavier today than usual; even after being startled, she seemed curved forward with more than just the weight of her stomach.

"Denton gave us the afternoon off after the company holiday party," Santana explained, sitting up. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Oh... just work stuff," Brittany said, trying to brush the issue aside as she set down her purse and took off her shoes, wincing as she bent over.

"Is Neil being a gentleman?" Santana asked, eying her critically.

Brittany paused. "He's dying, Santana. I can't expect him to be nice all the time."

Santana contemplated this. "True," she said, "but I might have to give him a stern talking to if he's being mean to my baby's mama."

Brittany gave Santana a sad grin. "He's doing the best he can," she sighed. "And he gets really happy when I tell him about the baby. He can't really talk anymore, but he shows me with his face. He's mad most of the time though..." Brittany looked lost in her thoughts for a minute as she frowned.

"Aw, Britt," Santana cooed. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Do you want to lie down for a bit?" Santana asked in concern.

"No..." Brittany mumbled. After a moment of silence, she sighed and said, "yes. My back is killing me."

"Come here, mamacita," Santana said, beckoning Brittany towards the couch. "Let me take care of you."

Brittany trudged over to the couch with her shoulders slumped, dropping into it with a sigh. "I'm glad you're home," she mumbled, tilting her head onto Santana's shoulder. "I missed you today."

Santana turned her head so she could kiss Brittany's hair, nuzzling her nose into it. "Me too," she said, so quietly it was almost inaudible. She inhaled Brittany's scent, closing her eyes and savoring it. "Me too," she repeated.

After a few minutes of quiet, Santana offered to make dinner. "Hungry?" she asked.

"Always," Brittany replied, a faint smile returning to her face.

"What do you want?"

"I don't know," Brittany sighed. "I'm too tired to decide."

"Do you want to go lie down?" Santana asked.

"I'm too tired to decide," Brittany repeated, resting her hand on her stomach.

Santana pulled Brittany closer, rubbing her shoulder and kissing her hair. "Okay," she murmured. "You don't have to decide right now. Just let me know if you need anything," she said.

At that Brittany smiled. "Anything?" she challenged, eyebrow raised.

"_Anything_," Santana confirmed.

Brittany's lips spread in a devilish smile. "Hmm... I think I _will_ lie down," she began, smirking. "Help me up?" she asked, holding out her hand.

Santana stood and pulled Brittany up, placing her hand gently on Brittany's back as she followed her into the bedroom. She propped a extra pillow up against the headboard as Brittany sat on the edge of the bed, turning her torso as she pulled her legs up. She lay down, sighing in relief, eyes shut for a minute as she sank into blissful relaxation.

Santana decided to pamper Brittany while she rested, taking care of her hunger and her likely aching feet. She smiled at Brittany from the side of the bed as she slid a pillow under her knees. "I'll be right back," she said, patting her legs and turning toward the kitchen.

She came back minutes later, a plate of olives and a mug of herbal tea in her hands. "Something to hold you over until dinner," she explained as she set them down on the nightstand.

Brittany looked at her with a grateful expression as she took a handful of olives and popped them one by one into her mouth.

"So... olives, huh?" Santana asked with a grin as she sat on the edge of the bed.

"They're just so delicious," Brittany said, her words garbled by her chewing. "Don't _you_ think they're delicious? I could eat them all day and not get tired of them." She chewed, stopping only to lick olive juice off her fingers. "Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night thinking about olives."

Santana chuckled as she got out a bottle of peppermint foot lotion. "As cravings go, olives aren't so weird."

Brittany's eyes widened and her hand, holding an olive, froze in mid-air for a second. "Whoa, you're right!" she exclaimed, popping the olive in her mouth. "It _is_ a craving!"

"You're just figuring this out _now_?" Santana laughed. "It started when you were two months!"

"Weird…" Brittany said, scrunching up her nose. "It just feels normal. Why doesn't _everyone_ love olives this much?"

Santana grinned. "Because then there wouldn't be enough left for _you_." She took off Brittany's socks and rubbed a dollop of lotion between her hands to warm it before smoothing it over Brittany's feet.

"Mmm, feels good, baby," Brittany hummed, mouth still full of olives. "I could get used to this."

Santana rubbed Brittany's feet for several minutes more as they sat in peaceful silence. When Santana had finished giving Brittany her footrub, she patted the top of her feet with a sigh before slipping her socks back on. She took a bottle of vitamin E oil off the bedside table and pushed Brittany's shirt up, rubbing oil over her stomach to prevent stretch marks. The skin was soft and warm beneath her hands and Santana took her time, smoothing the oil over every inch, rubbing it in as tenderly as she could. When she was done, she pulled the shirt back down and gazed at Brittany, seeing the pregnant glow everyone talked about, shining bright as day.

"You're glowing, B," Santana hummed. "I don't think you've ever looked more beautiful." She crawled up the bed, lying pressed against Brittany's side.

"Must be all the olive oil," Brittany smiled. "It's good for your skin."

"No, it's definitely the baby," Santana murmured, head resting on Brittany's shoulder, hand on the swell of her belly. All of Brittany was warm and soft, and although she was tired, she made Santana feel so alive. "I feel so close to you right now."

"I feel close to you, too," Brittany purred, setting down her tea. She slid down the pillows a few inches and turned her rounded torso towards Santana. Santana met her lips, kissing her ever so gently, tasting the saltiness of the olives.

Santana's hands moved to Brittany's stomach as their kisses deepened. She pressed forward, feeling Brittany's curves flush against her, warm and alluring. Brittany's belly was firm against her own as she felt herself start to kindle with desire. Reminding herself Brittany was exhausted and overwhelmed and that it was her job to take care of Brittany, she pulled her lips away with a reluctant pop. She kissed Brittany's cheek to reassure her, drawing her into her arms against the pillow.

Santana stroked Brittany's back as they lay in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Brittany spoke. "Hey Santana?" she asked, sounding uncertain.

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you something?" Brittany asked, buying time.

"Anything," Santana offered, her hand still moving in circles on Brittany's back. Santana could tell Brittany was hesitant.

Brittany straightened up, looking at Santana for a moment. "Usually when I come home upset or something you take care of me in a... _different_ way." She paused before delicately asking, "How come you never try to have sex with me anymore?"

Santana's stomach tightened and she avoided Brittany's gaze. She could feel heat creeping up her neck and cheeks. She knew exactly why she didn't initiate.

Santana thought Brittany with her pregnant belly was _incredibly_ sexy. She grew more reverent of all the things Brittany's body could do every day. Of course Santana was captivated by what was happening _within_ Brittany's body, but apart from its function, Santana loved the _shape_ of Brittany's body; it was a perfect portrait of feminine power and grace. Every curve was artful, connected and complimentary as each line curled off the last, emanating from her swelling stomach. Santana loved to sneak in a feel whenever she could: brushing past her belly in the kitchen as she unloaded the dishwasher, placing a hand on her bump with every goodbye or hello kiss, and staring at her in the shower when Brittany rinsed the shampoo out of her hair. But Santana was so confused by what she felt. There was a baby in Brittany's belly. Babies weren't sexy at all.

"We have sex, B," she argued.

"I know, but you never initiate. How come?" Brittany wondered.

"I, um... I don't know," Santana lied. She gave a little shrug, trying to be casual.

Brittany's gaze stayed on Santana for a moment. "Do you not like the way I look now?" she asked, sadness tingeing her voice.

Santana's eyes flew up to meet Brittany. She couldn't bear the thought of Brittany feeling unattractive.

"B, I love the way you look," Santana replied, forcing herself to hold Brittany's gaze for a second before looking away again.

"You do?" Brittany asked, dipping her head to draw Santana's gaze back.

Santana felt her neck and ears get hotter as she nodded. "You look beautiful," she admitted. "I just- I just want you to call all the shots. Your body and hormones are changing and I never know how you're feeling. I just want to respect you."

"Okay," Brittany sighed, sounded resigned. "Just wondering."

Santana felt guilty for not telling the truth. She never wanted Brittany to feel less than stunning, so she steeled herself. "Well... if I'm being honest..." she said, her voice hesitant.

Brittany's eyes flew to hers, a flicker of hope igniting them.

Santana sighed, resigning herself to the fact that she would just have to tell Brittany how she felt "... I think you look sexy as hell. I just... I just feel weird about it."

"Why?" Brittany said, a slight frown wrinkling her brow in a way Santana found unhinging.

"Because you're _pregnant_," Santana said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She was getting flustered. "I feel weird thinking dirty thoughts about you when there's something so..." she searched for the word, "_sacred_ happening."

Brittany's face lit up. "Really?" she asked, delighted.

Santana nodded, still unable to meet Brittany's eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Brittany asked, her voice light with happy curiosity.

"Because... what I just said," Santana said, still embarrassed. "The baby."

"The baby doesn't mind, S," Brittany said, her voice soft but reassuring. "If I'm happy, Baby's happy."

Santana contemplated this for a minute, looking down at the duvet as she bit her lip. "I still don't know... I don't think I could just- But I guess- Whenever you're in the mood, just say the word, B." She looked up, Brittany's smile giving her courage. "My clothes will be off faster than you can imagine," she said, a shy smile spreading across her face.

Brittany's grin widened at Santana's admission. "What's the word?" she asked.

"The word?" Santana frowned, confused.

"Yeah, you said 'say the word.' What's the word?"

"Um…" Santana bit her lip to hide a smile as she traced her fingers over the pattern on the duvet. As she flattened out a wrinkle with her palm, she brushed against Brittany's scrub top. She grinned. "Naughty nurse?" she suggested.

Brittany chuckled and kissed Santana on the cheek. Suddenly she got up from the bed, heading for the bathroom. When she reached the doorway she stopped and looked back. "Hey Santana?" she said with a smirk.

"Hm?"

"Naughty nurse."

Santana's heart quickened as she caught the glint in Brittany's eye. She hadn't expected Brittany to make an invitation so quickly. After getting her bearings, she sprang up off the bed and followed Brittany into the bathroom.

Santana rounded the doorway and saw Brittany bending over the tub in her scrubs as she turned on the water and added lots of bubbles. Santana leaned against the doorframe, smiling as Brittany turned around with a smug grin and began slowly peeling off her scrub top, revealing her beautifully rounded stomach. Brittany pulled it over her head, dropping it on the floor as she stepped toward Santana.

"I thought you said your clothes would be off faster than I could imagine," Brittany purred, pulling Santana's shirt out of her skirt. "I imagined it a lot faster than this."

Santana grinned and unbuttoned her blouse, letting Brittany push it off her shoulders and drop it on the ground. Brittany's arms wrapped around Santana's waist and unzipped her skirt, pushing it to the ground with her panties.

Santana untied Brittany's scrub pants, pulling the ribbon slowly before helping push them past Brittany's hips and down Brittany's legs. She crouched and helped Brittany step out of them. She lifted Brittany's feet one at a time, removing her socks before reaching up to pull Brittany's panties down too.

Santana stood up, stroking the sides of Brittany's belly as she looked her deep in the eyes. Brittany smiled back at her before Santana leaned forward and began kissing her.

Santana pushed Brittany gently back against the counter, kissing her slowly, deeply, intently. She felt freer: she didn't have to pretend this wasn't exciting. Brittany hummed into her mouth and Santana smiled, savoring Brittany's taste on her tongue before moving to her neck, taking little nips along the sensitive spots where her pulse flickered. As she did, Brittany ran her hands up Santana's back, her fingers digging in just enough to let Santana know she wanted this just as much as Santana did. She undid Santana's bra and reached behind her back to undo her own, dropping both to the floor.

Pausing for just a moment, Santana's hands slid up to cup Brittany's breasts, fingers moving slowly as she caressed them. She closed her eyes and sighed. Brittany's breasts were definitely bigger and rounder since Brittany had gotten pregnant. They were also tender and more sensitive; Brittany moved her hands through Santana's hair, gasping a bit as Santana kneaded her breasts.

"That feels so good," Brittany murmured, pressing into Santana's hands.

Santana let her fingers drift toward Brittany's nipples, being careful not to pinch. They were already hardened, alert as Brittany quivered under her touch. Santana was amazed at how responsive Brittany was. Seeing what she'd been missing out on, she suddenly felt guilty for not taking more initiative these past few months.

"So good..." Brittany echoed.

Santana exhaled at the desperation in Brittany's words, vowing to make up for lost time as she felt Brittany's breath against her. She felt as if Brittany were melting into her at just the simplest touch.

Santana continued kissing Brittany's neck, up and down the other side now and around her collarbone while her hands gently kneaded Brittany's breasts. She bent her knees and brought her mouth to Brittany's nipples, licking and gently sucking them as Brittany rolled into her, inhaling the smell of Santana's hair as Santana's breasts pressed against her stomach.

Brittany moaned and pulled Santana into her, adding an edge of roughness to their touching. Santana stood up and kissed Brittany's neck as she slid her thigh between Brittany's legs, feeling she as already wet.

Brittany gasped and then inhaled. "It's so easy to get me excited lately," she whispered, smiling against Santana's cheek as she turned her head to kiss her.

Santana grinned, moving her lips to kiss Brittany's jaw. "I know," she murmured. "I love it." She placed a few more kisses along Brittany's jaw before continuing. "I know it's kind of cliché, but you really do glow..." she kissed Brittany's ear and took it between her teeth for a moment. "I just want to touch you all over and then _take_ you."

Brittany tilted her head back as she exhaled, pulling Santana into her. "Take me," she whispered. "I'm all yours."

Santana kissed her lips, harder and more frantic as she pushed the tip of her tongue to meet Brittany's. She traced her hands up and down Brittany's sides. It was as if a new plane was created there, curving forward over the swell of her stomach. She wanted nothing more than to hoist Brittany up on the counter and fuck her senseless. But she was supposed to take care of Brittany tonight. She pulled away from her mouth with a pop and a grimace. "Let's get you in the bath," she husked.

Brittany's voice was breathy with desperation as she whispered, "Okay."

Santana took Brittany's hand and stepped toward the tub, shutting off the water as she dipped her hand in, swirling it around to check the temperature. Dr. Greene had said baths were fine as long as the water wasn't over a hundred degrees. Santana didn't have a thermometer, but she had drawn Brittany baths before and could tell it was just about right. She looked back and nodded, holding her hand as she guided Brittany into the tub. Brittany sat in the middle, legs drawn up as much as she could in the small space, gesturing with her head for Santana to sit behind her. Santana stepped over the lip of the tub and sat down, sliding her legs around Brittany's hips. She pulled Brittany between her legs as she let the water soothe her muscles and soften her skin. She leaned back and slid down a bit, feeling her hair stick to her back and shoulders as it got wet.

"Mm..." Brittany hummed, leaning back against Santana's chest. "So perfect."

They lay in the warm water for a moment, just breathing and feeling their skin soak together. Brittany didn't quite lay still; her back made little ripples against Santana, making the surface of the water dance too.

"I really want you, Santana," Brittany finally whispered, her words sounding off the walls of the bathroom. She slid her hand up between her breasts to her neck. "You felt how wet I was..."

Santana grinned, lifting Brittany's hair away from the side of her neck as she kissed it, dragging the tips of her fingers over the underside of Brittany's belly.

"Are you teasing a pregnant lady?" Brittany asked. Santana could hear she was putting on her exaggerated pout.

"You like it when I tease you," Santana baited, nipping at Brittany's neck.

Brittany exhaled. "Maybe a little," she admitted.

Santana's hands traced water droplets up and down the skin of Brittany's arms and moved up to gently caress her breasts. Brittany's nipples hardened at once. Brittany let out a whimper as Santana ever so gently plucked at them.

Brittany pressed into Santana, tilting her head back onto Santana's shoulder. Santana kissed Brittany's ear and neck and temple, letting her mouth wander over every part of Brittany it could reach, while her hands caressed Brittany's breasts and trailed up and down her sides. Water dripped from Brittany's arms as she lifted them to cradle Santana's head next to her own, her breath ragged on Santana's cheek. Brittany's skin seemed to prickle in Santana's hands as she felt Brittany's sides and belly, every inch coming alive.

The water and bubbles slid against their skin as Santana's hands continued trailing down, caressing Brittany's bump. She kissed Brittany's mouth as Brittany turned back into her. Santana could still feel Brittany's hipbones - just barely. Brittany dropped a hand from behind Santana's head to cup her own breast. She pressed her knees against the sides of the tub as Santana circled a finger from Brittany's hipbone across her belly to her other hipbone. Brittany shivered as Santana whispered, "I love you so much, Britt."

"I love you too, S," Brittany said, gasping.

Santana's hand worked its way lower, feeling the way Brittany moved against her front as she teased. Brittany's fingers ran through Santana's hair, pulling her deeper into their sloppy, wet kiss as her knees pressed harder against the sides of the tub.

Santana's hand slipped down to caress along Brittany's sex. The wetness she felt there was different than the water around them: slicker and cooler. Brittany almost jumped at her touch, pressing her hips up into Santana's hand. Santana stroked up and down a few times, just to feel how sensitive Brittany was: she jerked a bit with each stroke. It made Santana smile into her mouth as she pushed in a little farther. Brittany groaned.

"God, baby, it's never been like this," Brittany moaned into her mouth. "I just feel _everything_."

Santana grinned wider and pressed into Brittany, making her shiver. She circled Brittany's entrance with two fingers for a moment before taking Brittany's ear between her teeth.

"What do you want me to do, B?" Santana purred as she cupped Brittany's breast in her free hand.

Brittany gasped and reached down, directing Santana's fingers inside her. Santana eased her fingers in, working against the urgency of Brittany's hand, pushing in a centimeter at a time, reveling in the ridges and smoothness and heat. Brittany whimpered and pressed her hips up, making waves in the water. "Oh god..." she moaned.

Santana pulled out to stroke up and down her center before pushing inside again, suppressing a moan as her mouth grew sloppy on Brittany's neck. Brittany bucked into her hand as Santana squeezed her breast. Santana pushed inside again, deeper this time, feeling Brittany's most delicate flesh surround her fingers. Brittany was already panting, water sloshing around the tub as Santana began to slide her fingers in and out in a steady rhythm.

Brittany moaned, pushing her hips up into Santana's hand. "Fuck, that feels good, Santana..." she groaned. "More," she panted, pulling Santana's head down to her neck again.

Santana moaned and sank her fingers in as far as they would go as she pressed her chest up against Brittany's back. Brittany cried out and it rang around the walls of the bathroom, sharp and desperate. Santana shuddered and started thrusting, not too hard at first. It required all her self control not to just take her. She could feel Brittany clenching around her hand already and she felt herself getting shaky. She didn't want to be too rough. This was about taking care of Brittany.

But Brittany noticed. "Why are you holding back, S?" she gasped, frustrated.

_Because you're precious and you're carrying our child. Because I want to take care of you. Because I want you to feel good. Because I don't want to hurt you._Santana didn't know which answer to use.

"I'm not going to break," Brittany assured before Santana could answer, her voice sultry and deep as she pushed back into Santana, rubbing her shoulder blades over Santana's breasts. "So please... this feels _so_ good."

Santana groaned and sank into her as deep as she could, pressing her breasts up against Brittany's back. She couldn't help but let her hips rise up to rub her center against Brittany's backside. It felt electric in the water. She felt Brittany all around and on top of her, with nothing but warm water and ceramic surrounding them. Brittany pushed back into her with a grunt.

"Faster," Brittany pleaded, already tensing.

Santana shuddered and sped up, moaning as Brittany made little grunts each time she bottomed out inside her.

"Oh god, Santana..." Brittany whimpered, rolling her hips.

Santana reached her other hand down to stroke Brittany's clit, finding it stiff and sensitive.

Brittany gasped and her face spread in a relieved smile. She panted and started pushing back into Santana with urgency, sliding her backside along Santana's sex.

Santana couldn't resist rocking back into her, closing her eyes and tilting her head back against the edge of the tub. "Fuck, Britt," she whispered, one hand still thrusting as the other circled Brittany's clit.

Brittany tilted her head back and took the flesh of Santana's neck into her mouth, biting as she rocked her hips back and forth. Santana shuddered and pumped harder into Brittany. Her arm was starting to tire, but she pushed herself to keep going. She could tell Brittany was close. She circled her clit harder and Brittany pressed her hips up. The water sloshed all over the tub, both from Brittany's movement and Santana's thrusting.

Brittany tilted her head back further onto Santana's shoulder and Santana took her neck into her mouth, scraping her teeth against the skin. Santana bit down as she added a third finger and Brittany cried out, gasping. Santana thrust as fast as she could into Brittany, determined. It didn't take long before Brittany moaned, back arching as she approached her release.

"Come for me, B," Santana purred, nipping Brittany's ear. She ran her tongue along the edge of Brittany's it and pressed her thumb down onto Brittany's clit.

Brittany's shoulders pushed Santana against the ceramic hard as she jolted, crying out. Water splashed over the side of the tub, her belly rising out of the water as she planted her feet on the bottom of the tub and arched higher. Her release rippled through her, starting with her legs, up through her hips, over her belly, up her sides and into her neck as she cried out. The noise Brittany made was almost animal: a combination of a groan and a yell rattled through her.

Santana felt herself quicken at Brittany's release, feeling Brittany squeeze her fingers together, almost crushing. "Oh god..." she whispered, spurring her on. "Yes, B."

Brittany's eyes were shut tight as she pulled Santana's head against her and squeezed her breast in one hand while the other remained tangled in Santana's hair. Her muscles clamped around Santana's fingers over and over. Santana kept thrusting into her, pressing hard against her clit. Brittany had a look of sheer abandon, arching back with her belly raised, round and proud and glistening with water droplets. Santana drew her out, watching her body radiate with pleasure.

After she peaked, Brittany slowly lowered her hips. Santana wrapped her arm under Brittany's belly, feeling as if she needed to hold her so she wouldn't slip down into the water in her exhaustion. She held her tight as she came to rest on the bottom of the tub. Santana kissed her, softer now as they settled, feeling the pulses weaken around her fingers. As Brittany's muscles relaxed, Santana slid her hand out and cradled Brittany's belly as she quivered a bit. She just wanted to melt together. She kissed Brittany's damp neck, feeling strands of her hair stick to her face.

Brittany let out a sigh as a big grin spread across her face. Santana grinned and sighed back, letting Brittany catch her breath.

"You okay?" she murmured a moment later.

Brittany closed her eyes and hummed as her smile widened.

Santana let out a soft chuckle, still holding her tight against her torso as she kissed her temple and cheek and neck.

They lay there, just breathing, for several minutes. Brittany felt like putty against her and Santana felt powerful, as though she were gathering her up and putting her back together.

Brittany inhaled, trying to rouse herself from her reverie. "Sometimes I think the aftermath is just as good as the orgasm," she murmured, her words sleepy and damp.

"Sometimes it is," Santana replied just as softly. She pulled a washcloth from the side of the tub and began to rub Brittany all over with it, starting with her chest. She ran it between Brittany's breasts over her stomach, watching the way the water slid down the sides.

"Does it feel different?" Santana asked.

"Sex?" Brittany clarified, her voice lazy.

"Yeah," Santana said, brushing the washcloth up Brittany's left arm.

"Mm hm," Brittany hummed. "Everything is more intense. Every touch, every sound... it's wonderful."

Santana smiled. She loved making Brittany feel good. Knowing it was better, more intense than usual, felt great. She was relieved she had been honest with Brittany earlier.

"You're so sweet to me, S," Brittany hummed, trying to hold back a yawn.

"What's not to be sweet about?" Santana cooed, setting down the washcloth and tucking Brittany's hair behind her ear before placing her hand back around Brittany's belly. "I love you, you had a hard day, and you're carrying our baby."

Brittany yawned again, giving a faint nod.

Santana grinned as she watched Brittany's eyelashes flutter against her cheek as she tried to stay awake. "Do you need a nap?" Santana murmured in her ear.

Brittany nodded against her shoulder, eyes closed. "Will you nap with me?" she mumbled.

"Sure. I'll lie down with you for a bit before I make dinner."

Brittany made no move to get up as she nuzzled Santana's neck. Santana's didn't want to move either, but the water was starting to cool and her back hurt a bit from being pressed against the ceramic.

"Let me help you up," Santana suggested, patting Brittany's belly.

"Okay..." Brittany said, pouting at the thought of having to move. After a moment she leaned forward, allowing Santana to sit up and extract her legs from Brittany's sides.

Santana hoisted herself out of the water, sloshing and dripping as she stepped over the edge. She held out her hand, planting her feet firmly on the mat as she helped Brittany up, trying not to let the strain show on her face. She took a towel off the rack and wrapped it around Brittany, patting her shoulders and belly and sides, and then leaned forward to kiss her lips gently. She pulled another towel off the rack, patting Brittany's hair before wrapping the towel around herself. Then Santana took Brittany's bathrobe off the back of the door and held it behind Brittany's back as Brittany slid her arms into the sleeves. Santana pulled it across her chest, smiling as she tied the belt gently over Brittany's tummy.

Brittany flashed her a grateful, tired smile as Santana tucked her towel around her chest and took Brittany's hand, leading her into the bedroom. Santana pulled back the comforter and let Brittany get settled before curling around her, arm draped over her belly as she tucked the comforter around them.

"What about you, S?" Brittany asked, sleepy and she reached back to pat Santana's hip. "Do you want me to...?" she trailed off, too tired to finish her sentence.

"I'm good," Santana said, patting Brittany's belly. "You just sleep, sweetheart."

"Are you sure?" Brittany asked, already tucking her hand under her pillow.

"Positive," Santana said, kissing Brittany's shoulder through her bathrobe.

Brittany sighed, content as she melted into the bed. "I feel so good..." she mumbled.

Santana nuzzled into her damp hair, smiling. "Good."

"Love you, S," Brittany slurred, her words barely distinguishable in her drowsiness.

"Love you too, B," Santana whispered. "Sleep now."

Brittany yawned, becoming even limper under Santana's arm. Santana pulled Brittany into her, cupping the bump and burying her face into Brittany's neck and wet hair. The smell was so relaxing that Santana decided she _would_ take a nap before dinner.

Five minutes later, Santana was almost asleep when Brittany groaned, "Ugh, I have to pee for the millionth time today."

Brittany untangled herself from Santana's body and dragged herself out of bed, slinking into the bathroom. Santana kept her eyes closed and she continued drifting into sleep.

"Santana," Santana heard Brittany whisper a moment later, her breath warm on her cheek. "Baby, wake up!"

Santana groaned and rolled toward Brittany. She was exhausted, but if her pregnant fiancée wanted her awake, she supposed she needed to wake up. "Wuh d'you need, B?" she mumbled.

Brittany sounded giddy as she shook Santana, trying to rouse her. "Your phone was buzzing like crazy. Look!" she demanded, shoving the phone in Santana's face.

Santana opened her eyes, blinded by the glare of the screen in the dark room. She shut them again for a moment before cracking one eyelid open to read the blurry text message.

From: Denton. _You're one step closer to tying the knot. The Senate just passed the bill._

Santana opened both her eyes, rereading the text. She grabbed the phone from Brittany's hand as her eyebrows shot up her forehead. She scrolled through a dozen more texts, her heart racing faster as she read each one.

_Human Rights Campaign Alert: Ohio Senate passes marriage bill on to governor._

Santana sat up, completely awake as she scrolled through the next few messages:

_Elinor: We're almost fucking there!_

_Danielle: I'm holding my breath for you, Brittany, and every other gay couple in Ohio. Congrats on work well done!_

_Sasha: Hope your dowry's looking good these days. Get your woman a ring, girl._

As Santana dropped the phone onto the bed with an elated cry, Brittany pulled her forward by the back of the neck, smashing their lips together. Santana met her with just as much hope and passion. She wrapped her arms around Brittany's neck, their tongues quickly delving between each other's lips. No matter how long they kissed, no matter how close they got, it would never quite capture what Santana felt inside. At any moment, the governor could announce he would sign the bill into law. At any moment, Brittany could legally become her wife. At any moment, she would be able to have full parental rights over their child. Her throat closed on itself at the thought; the possibility was too much to hold at once.

"We're so close, S!" Brittany gasped, clutching the ring Santana's chest when they parted for air. "So close!"

"So close," Santana echoed, tears welling up in her eyes as her chest overflowed with joy. "So close, Britt."

Seeing all the hope that sparkled in Brittany's eyes, Santana pulled Brittany close to her, never wanting that happiness to leave. If there were anything in the world that could keep Brittany this happy forever, she would do it a hundred times. She felt a sickening anxiety begin to creep through her body as she thought of the possibility that the bill wouldn't be signed. As Brittany's arms wrapped tighter around her, Santana couldn't bring herself to think about what Brittany's face would look like if - god forbid - the governor vetoed the bill. She pushed the thought aside; all she wanted to feel was Brittany's joy.

"Let's take a picture, S," Brittany chirped, pulling away and patting the terrycloth robe over her belly, shaking Santana from her anxious thoughts.

"For the book?" Santana asked, smiling as she nodded towards the shelf where the baby's scrapbook lay.

Brittany grinned and nodded as she scrambled off the bed, pulling the camera out of the drawer. She dropped her robe and stood naked with a big smile plastered on her face, waiting for Santana to stand behind her. Santana raised an eyebrow over her smile. They'd taken a belly picture every few weeks, but never naked.

"C'mere," Brittany said, chuckling as she gestured with her head for Santana to join her. "This way you can remember what I looked like naked when I was pregnant."

Santana giggled and slid off the bed. Returning Brittany's playful expression, she pulled off her towel as she walked to stand behind Brittany. Brittany placed one of Santana's arms over her breasts, cupping and covering her while lacing the fingers of Santana's other hand with her own. Santana had to extend her arm further than before as Brittany brought it to rest below her bellybutton. As Santana stepped forward into Brittany, she felt all Brittany's warmth and softness against her front and pressed in closer.

"Ready?" Brittany asked, giddy with happiness as she held the camera out.

Santana nodded, her chin brushing Brittany's shoulder.

"One, two, three," Brittany chanted.

As the flash flickered through the room, Santana squeezed her eyes shut and clutched Brittany to her, wishing as hard as she could that the bill would be signed into law - and _soon_.


	70. Limbo No More

**Chapter 70 - Limbo No More**

**Soundtrack for this chapter: "Limbo No More" by Alanis Morissette.**

**A/N: Despite having some major computer drama, I am so glad I was able to get this chapter up. Please forgive me if I can't respond to your reviews - my computer is being repaired and they probably have to replace the hard drive. My creys.**

**Please thank these fierce femme fenomenal women who keep my story intelligible: terriblemuriel, HangedLikeADog (formerly HoneyFigsAndDarkChocolate), Emmas409, and Sapphic Charmer.**

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><p>Santana sat stiff in her chair on a platform between Elinor and Denton as noise filled the vaulted ceiling above them. They were seated behind a podium in the middle of the rotunda of the state capitol building. Offering no further information, Santana had received a call from Marcía the previous day, informing her that she was summoning Denton, Elinor and Santana to join her at the capitol and that they were to sit beside her. In a few minutes, the governor would be making a statement about the marriage bill; he hadn't made any press releases or statements about it yet, so the future of the bill was a mystery. Santana was a nervous wreck, tapping her foot against the leg of her chair, shifting as she crossed and recrossed her legs, feeling like her heart was going to beat out of her chest. For once, even looking at Brittany - who was sitting just fifty feet away with the general public - didn't soothe her.<p>

Santana was dizzy with anxiety. Though her chair was firmly planted on the ground, she felt like she would faint and topple off the platform at any moment. Although the governor had generally been supportive of LGBT rights, Santana was second-guessing what he would do: signing the bill into law was a bold move that could cost him re-election. He could very well veto it and secure himself another term. She tried not to imagine what she would do if he did. She tried not to imagine the crushing disappointment and anger she would feel, weighing her down, making it hard to even look across the room at Brittany. She tried not to imagine Brittany's face as Brittany took a deep breath, mustering her waning patience and trying to hold onto her faith that someday the bill would pass. She tried not to think of another year - or decade - of not being married to the love of her life.

But Santana knew _exactly_ what she was going to do if the bill was signed. As soon as the governor made his statement, she was going to run across the room to where Brittany was sitting, get down on her knees, pull out the ring that weighed heavily in her pocket and ask Brittany to marry her.

Santana wanted to take the ring out, to make sure it was still there and to give it one last look to make sure it was the right one for Brittany. But she could feel it pressing into her hip, solid and reassuring, and picturing the way the jewel sparkled in the light, she _knew_ it was the right one.

In the jewelry store the day before, Santana had scanned up and down the lit glass cases of diamonds. They were beautiful, but none of them felt quite right for Brittany. Of course Brittany was elegant and had a certain timelessness to her; but she was also recklessly original, unbidden by tradition and expectations. The salesclerk must have seen Santana frowning because she ushered her to a different case, where nontraditional rings were displayed. There were sapphires, opals, and colored diamonds, some in traditional cuts and some modern. Santana had her doubts. She wanted Brittany's ring to be a recognizable wedding ring, and not be mistaken for a mere accessory. But when Santana saw _the_ ring, she instantly knew it was perfect. It was just like the promise ring Brittany had worn all these years, the one she'd given her for Christmas when they were seventeen. The promise ring had stood in place of a wedding ring for far too long. The new ring would fit Brittany perfectly and signify how they had changed since that Christmas ten years ago: they were more mature, established, and Brittany was more precious to her than ever. The new ring was more elegant with a bigger, raised jewel: a ruby, just like the promise ring. Rubies meant love, integrity, passion and promise. Rubies meant everything Santana felt with Brittany. She bought the ring on the spot with the Christmas bonus she had been given the day before.

Now the ring sat in her left front pocket, pressed up against her hip. She had taken it out of the box, afraid Brittany would see its bulk and know what was coming. Brittany loved surprises, and Santana wasn't about to deprive her of this one. Even knowing what the answer would be, Santana was a nervous wreck. If - _if_ - she got the opportunity to propose today, she wanted it to be perfect.

Brittany sat right next to the aisle where Neil was stationed in his wheelchair. He looked ten years older than the last time Santana had seen him; his skin was chalky and translucent. Blue-violet veins were visible at his temples over his hollow cheeks, and his eyes were glazed over and gummy. His suit didn't fit as well, bulging up at the shoulders. He was a shadow of the formidable presence he had once been. Santana watched in adoration as Brittany made comments to him, pointing out people in the room and trying to make jokes. He couldn't respond - he was in the final stages of esophageal cancer - but he sometimes nodded or scowled. Mostly he scowled. Even though he looked so ill and frail, Santana was comforted by the fact that he had insisted on coming. It was due to his support, after all, that the bill had gotten this far in the first place. Even though his health was rapidly declining - the doctors said a month, if he was lucky - he had insisted Brittany bring him. Although Brittany was usually firm with him about outings, she couldn't deny him this one. Besides, if she hadn't brought him, she would have had to stay at his house caring for him, rather than being here with Santana on what might be the most important day of their lives.

Brittany looked up at Santana with a bright smile, which grew when Santana met her gaze. Brittany waved a little and said something to Neil, pointing to Santana before resting her hand on her belly. Neil bobbed his head, frowning a bit, but not quite scowling. It was as close to smiling as he got. Santana nervously returned Brittany's smile before her gaze darted away. She was just too nervous. She repeated her proposal over and over in her head.

_I've always thought of you as my wife. Truly, with all of my heart, I have. But feeling it in my heart and telling the world are two different things. I love you more than I can possibly say and I want the world to know. Brittany Pierce, will you marry me?_

She repeated the words over and over, a chant that drummed steady enough to slow her heartbeat down so she didn't feel it in her stomach.

But then it was time. The room grew hushed as the governor walked in and stood behind the podium. Santana struggled to draw a breath as her chest constricted. She tried to swallow but her throat was sandpaper dry. She sat as still as possible in her chair, hoping her blazer projected the air of confidence she desperately wished she had. The short, elf-like man rifled through papers before clearing his throat. Santana's ears prickled as she held her breath.

_"I believe the practice of limiting the rights and privileges of marriage to heterosexual couples to be unconstitutional and unethical…"_

Santana thought she might pass out. She gripped the arms of her chair.

_"… the arguments made for and against denying homosexual couples the right to full and lawful marriage have led me to determine..."_

People began to murmur around her. She looked at the crowd before her and saw a myriad of expressions unfolding around her: incredulous joy on some, smug, righteous smiles in others; anger in a few; disbelief and joy on most. She looked at Elinor and saw smug satisfaction on her face. Santana tightened her grip on the armrests of her chair, sitting forward as she watched the man pull out a pen.

_"...to withhold these rights and privileges from upstanding citizens of the great state of Ohio is unfair, unconstitutional, and cannot be supported by current legislation, nor should it ever be. So today I sign this bill into law, on this the seventeenth day of December, two thousand twenty one."_

The room began to rumble like an avalanche until it crescendoed into joyous applause, shouting and cheering. Santana felt as if everything moved in slow motion as the governor signed the bill and lifted his hand to his brow to salute the crowd. He turned around and shook first Marcía's hand, then Denton's, then stood before Santana with his hand outstretched. On shaky legs, she forced herself up out of her chair and looked him in the eye as she shook his hand. She found enough breath to whisper _thank you_ as his calloused hand brushed through hers, gripping for just a moment as he nodded. That handshake was the final confirmation she needed that this was real. Though it took every ounce of her self control, she willed herself to wait until the governor had shaken hands with Elinor and several other officials before flying towards Brittany. As soon as the governor stepped off the platform, Santana darted into the cheering crowd. She heard only the blood rushing through her ears as she locked eyes with Brittany and fought through the euphoric chaos of shouts and clapping and cheering. Flashbulbs were going off all around her as she made her way through all the noise and commotion. Brittany fought toward her too, arms in front of her belly protectively, her smile as dazzling as the first rays of sunlight. When Santana reached her, she held her close, clutching her shoulders desperately, protecting her from the jostling crowd and kissing her hard on the mouth.

In that moment everything else disappeared. All she could feel were Brittany's arms around her, Brittany's belly against her own, and Brittany's lips on hers. The kiss was searing, desperate, and incredulous, as if they had been reunited after years apart. Perhaps they kissed for twenty seconds, perhaps for twenty minutes. However long it was, Santana never wanted that kiss to end.

Eventually Santana's tears forced her to pull away so she could breathe. As she did, she looked at Brittany in adoration as tears spilled down her face as well. She opened her mouth to give Brittany the proposal she had practiced in her head a hundred times, but she was frozen, wordless in amazement as she watched Brittany's face twist between elation and overwhelming relief. Santana kissed her again, then simply reached in her pocket and pulled out the ring.

When Brittany saw the ring between Santana's fingers, her crying increased and she began to tremble. She bit her lips to keep from sobbing and nodded before Santana could even speak, wiping her cheek with the heel of her hand.

Looking at the joy on Brittany's face, Santana could only squeak out, "Brittany, will you marry me?"

"Yes," Brittany gasped right away. "Yes," she whispered again.

Grinning through her tears, Brittany held up her left hand, fingers tilted toward Santana. She had been waiting _years_ for this. They both had. Gazing into Santana's watery eyes, Brittany sniffled and beamed as Santana slid the ring to the base of her finger before clasping their hands together and squeezing.

"It's perfect," Brittany choked.

Santana's face contorted with tears as she drew Brittany to her chest and slid her free hand to Brittany's stomach, cradling the warm bump that held the baby she would now be able to parent in every sense. Everything was perfect now. No one could deny that she was the baby's mother or Brittany's wife.

"I love you so much, Britt," Santana whimpered. She pressed their lips together again and Brittany placed her free hand over Santana's, holding their family together. Somewhere in her distant consciousness, Santana registered a flashbulb going off.

Brittany pulled away, sniffling. Her eyes shone as she whispered, "Marry me back?"

Santana nodded solemnly, tears flowing down her cheeks. Brittany let go of Santana's hand to unclasp her necklace and slide the ring off. Time seemed to speed up and Santana's pulse raced as she held up her left hand, which she could see was shaking. Brittany slid the ring onto Santana's finger, smiling with more joy than Santana had ever seen on her face. As the ring came to rest at the base of her finger, Santana felt something sweep through her, clearing all the fear and anger and powerlessness away. Everything was right in the world. She took Brittany's left hand in hers, entwining their fingers and squeezing firmly, feeling the new band around her finger press against the ring on Brittany's.

"A thousand times," she answered.


	71. Somewhere Over The Rainbow

**Chapter 71 - Somewhere Over the Rainbow**

Chapter soundtrack: Somewhere Over The Rainbow as performed by Judy Garland.

**Please thank terriblemuriel and HangedLikeADog for their fierce beta skills.**

**If you're not already following me on Tumblr, please do! I often post hints and previews of upcoming chapters and answer questions about the story. There's a link to my Tumblr in my bio.**

* * *

><p>Minutes after the bill passed, Santana's phone started ringing and hadn't stopped ringing all day. Vickie had called her crying on the way home, blubbering that she had just heard the news from Brittany and that she was ecstatic she would finally get to see "her girls" in white. Sasha and Kelsey had called, shouting and whooping and making wild suggestions for a bachelorette party. There were numbers Santana didn't recognize, too. She answered them all, grinning, sometimes not even knowing who was congratulating her on the other end.<p>

The morning after the bill passed, Santana and Brittany were woken by Brittany's phone ringing at precisely six o'clock. Santana quickly answered it, wanting Brittany - in all her pregnant glory - to get as much sleep as she could.

"Hello?" Santana croaked, stumbling out of the bedroom with her hair disheveled and her sleep shirt rumpled.

"Pull up the homepage of the _Columbus Dispatch_," Vickie instructed, giddy with excitement.

"Uhm... okay," Santana mumbled, rubbing her eyes. She was confused and disoriented. Why was Vickie calling so damn _early_?

The apartment was freezing, so she punched the thermostat up before sitting down at their desk and opening her laptop. She pulled up her browser and entered the homepage address of the _Dispatch_. As her eyes adjusted to the light of the screen, she was stunned to see a picture of her kissing Brittany under the giant heading OHIO LEGALIZES GAY MARRIAGE. Brittany's hand - showcasing the ruby engagement ring - covered her own over Brittany's belly as they kissed.

"Oh my god!" Santana gasped. She was startled that a picture of such an intimate and joyous moment of her life was being used to distribute the news to the entire city and state. When she was younger she would have been angry that the picture was used without her permission, but now? She couldn't have been prouder. The joy of the day before came rushing back, filling her chest and shaking her from her sleepiness.

"Could they have picked better poster children for the article?" Vickie bubbled. "Y'all look _so_ beautiful and happy. It's on the front page of the Lima paper this morning too."

"Oh my god!" Santana repeated. Her heart felt full to bursting.

She thought of all the people checking the website as they drank their coffee or checked their email throughout the day. She thought of people unfolding the paper and seeing her face mashed against Brittany's as they read the headline. Her personal joy was being published for millions to see. That joy felt so big inside her chest, it was fitting that it was being mass distributed across the state.

"I can't wait to show Britt!" Santana exclaimed.

"Well, go show her!" Vickie encouraged. "She'll be thrilled."

"Aw, I don't want to wake her up..." Santana said with regret. "Her back was hurting her last night and she was tossing and turning... but she'll be so happy."

"Well, I'm having it framed for you, so clear a space on the wall, ya hear?" Vickie said.

"Thanks Vickie," Santana said, grinning. The enthusiasm she had heard in Vickie's voice when she answered the phone felt contagious, and she knew she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep now.

"Have you started planning the wedding yet?" Vickie asked.

"Things were pretty crazy last night after the bill passed - the phone was ringing off the hook and we were flipping between every news channel we could find - but we're going to have it before the baby comes. That way I can sign the birth certificate rather than petitioning the court to adopt the baby."

"Thank _God_," Vickie exhaled. "I can't tell you how angry I'd be if the court gave you any trouble there."

"No kidding."

"So what kind of wedding?" Vickie pushed. Santana could hear she was giddy.

"We just want something simple and sweet. Nothing too overwhelming."

"Well you tell me exactly what you need me to do and I'll do it," Vickie declared.

"Thanks," Santana said. "We're actually taking all our legal documents down to the courthouse today to get our license."

"You're always on top of the details, Santana," Vickie chuckled. "Well, I've got to go start getting breakfast together, but have Brittany call me once she sees the picture."

"I will," Santana said, smiling as she imagined Brittany's look of surprise when she say that picture. "Thanks for calling."

Santana hung up and sighed, smiling as she looked at the picture of her and Brittany kissing on the screen. She felt a little bashful, but mostly proud. Printing out the headline with their picture under it, she decided to make pancakes for Brittany and serve them to her in bed. She had to do _something_ with all her energy.

Santana got dozens of phone calls and emails that day from people she hadn't heard from in a long time, but one call in particular that afternoon made her grin from ear to ear.

"Santana Lopez, you lucky bitch," said a high male voice. "I see there are wedding bells in your very near future."

"_Kurt Hummel_?" Santana asked, incredulous. "Where the hell have you been!"

"Everywhere," Kurt mused. "Finn told me that you and Brittany were expecting a little bundle of joy, and then Carole sent me a link to the homepage of the _Columbus Dispatch_ this morning and I just _had_ to call."

Santana thought the phrase 'little bundle of joy' was cliché, but when she touched Brittany's stomach or imagined holding their baby, that's what it _felt_ like. She let out a bashful laugh and said, "We are, we are... She's due in March."

Kurt continued, "well I'm going to be in Lima for Christmas and I am taking you and your delightful fiancée out for lunch so we can plan this _fa_-bulous wedding of yours. No arguments! I'm pleased to inform you that you now have Kurt Hummel, wedding planner extraordinaire, at your humble service."

Santana laughed. "No arguments from me! What have you been up to, Kurt? It's been, what, eight years?"

"Practically a lifetime," he agreed. "Oh, goodness, I have to go," he said, obviously distracted, "but meet me the day after Christmas at the Lima Bean at noon and we can catch up and start talking colors. Congratulations!" he called.

"You got it," Santana said. "Bye, Kurt. Thanks!"

* * *

><p>For Christmas Brittany and Santana went back to Lima to stay with the Pierces, though they made their visit shorter than usual. Neil's health had rapidly declined, and it was clear he was in his last weeks, if not days. He had requested Brittany be there for his final moments, if possible, so Brittany felt she shouldn't stay away for too long. Although Brittany was still vivacious most days, she tired more easily, and no one could blame her for wanting the comforts of home, especially her own bed. So they stayed for just Christmas Eve and Christmas night, soaking up as much merriment and cheer as possible.<p>

As the usual gang of Pierces unwrapped presents around the tree on Christmas morning, Brittany was especially bubbly. She clapped her hands and cooed over every gift, whether for her or for anyone else; she was just so damn _happy_. It was almost like an extended baby shower; Great-Aunt Lois gave them a bottle warmer that also sanitized pacifiers, and Uncle Dan gave them a baby bouncer; "the sturdy kind." Gordon gave them a gorgeous rocking horse one of his buddies had made in his woodshop; the mane was made of soft brown yarn hammered in little tufts along the neck. Vickie made a point to give them non-mommy gifts: a new winter coat for Brittany and a pair of cute boots for Santana. Before Santana unwrapped a package from Hayley, Brittany plucked the bow off the top and stuck it on her belly, giggling. Santana tried to hide her stupid grin as Brittany pointed to her belly, winking, and whispering, "_best gift ever._"

The next day, Santana and Brittany donned their gifts from Vickie as they headed out to meet Kurt. They arrived first, picking a table far from the door where they wouldn't feel any drafts.

"Is it a little weird to let a guy we haven't talked to in years plan our wedding?" Santana wondered aloud. "I mean, what if he's totally nuts now?"

"It's not weird," Brittany assured her. "He did a great job with his dad's wedding and he was only sixteen, remember?"

At that moment Kurt burst through the door, looking around until he spotting them waving at him. He looked as fabulous as ever; his style had become even more outlandish and provocative. Santana had to stifle a chuckle. It was good to know some things never changed.

"Lay-dees!" Kurt sang across the coffee shop.

"Hi Kurt!" Brittany attempted to stand, but her rounded stomach bumped into the table, causing her to sit back down abruptly.

"Don't get up, Brittany," Kurt instructed, taking off his designer gloves as he approached the table. "Oh, jeez you're _huge_!" he remarked, eyes wide.

"Tell me about it," Brittany groaned. "Ten weeks to go."

"But who's counting, right?" Kurt sympathized, tilting his head and subtly scrunching up his nose. "Well you stay right there, little mama. _You_, on the other hand," he said, pointing to Santana, "are obligated to get up and give me a hug."

Santana rolled her eyes and grinned, already halfway out of her seat. After their embrace, they sat down and Kurt pulled out a moleskine notebook and a pen. Santana noticed that his face had thinned; his jaw was more defined and his cheekbones stood out more.

"So!" he exclaimed. "Let's not waste time with pleasantries. I'm living in Cleveland with my boyfriend, working as a personal assistant, and things are going fabulously, end of story. Now, if there's one thing Kurt Hummel has been good at since he could say the word 'nuptials,' it's planning weddings. So let's get down to business. First thing; do you have a date set?"

Santana pressed her shoulder against Brittany's as they leaned back in their chairs, nodding. "Yep. February third."

Kurt scribbled the date in his notebook. "Okay, February third, 2023… that gives us about thirteen months. Totally doable."

Brittany stifled a chuckle in her throat.

"No, no," Santana corrected, grinning. "February third, 2022."

Kurt's mouth hung open for a minute. "You're _joking_, right?"

"'Fraid not, Hummel," Santana smirked.

Kurt's eyes bulged out of their sockets momentarily. "You do realize what you're asking me to do is nothing short of a Houdini-inspired magic trick, right?" he said. "How am I supposed to pull off the lesbian wedding of the decade in _one month_?"

"It's not the wedding of the decade," Brittany blushed.

"Yeah, I mean, I want Brittany to have her fairy tale, but we've got such a small time frame…" Santana said, giving a regretful shrug.

Kurt was still mute with shock.

Brittany spoke up. "Marrying _you_ is my fairy tale, Santana," she murmured, "The rest is just details."

Santana melted into her chair, locking eyes with Brittany, admiring for the thousandth time the way pregnancy made her glow.

"Aw," Kurt cooed, resting his chin in his hand for a moment. "Only the dreams you dare to dream come true, huh?"

Santana snapped out of her daze. "Let's leave Judy Garland out of this," she quipped. "Rainbows too, for that matter. Just because we're both girls doesn't mean we're having a prismacolor wedding."

"Okay," said Kurt, straightening up in his chair. "So why in heaven's name aren't you doing the standard year-long engagement to save me from going prematurely gray?"

Santana rolled her eyes and gestured towards Brittany's stomach. Brittany pursed her lips and pointed to her belly with both hands.

"If we're married before the baby is born, Santana can sign the birth certificate," Brittany explained.

"You make a convincing case," admitted Kurt. "And planning a wedding with a newborn would be equally as ridiculous and… oh god, Brittany, don't even get me started on what a nightmare fitting your dress is going to be."

Brittany giggled. "Who said anything about a dress?"

Kurt stared at her blankly. "You're not serious," he muttered. "Don't get me wrong, you can pull off most looks, but I'm not sure 'enormously-pregnant-in-a-white-pantsuit' is one of them."

Santana saw the glint in Brittany's eye. "She's kidding," she reassured Kurt, playing with Brittany's hand on the armrest of her chair. "We're both wearing dresses. Nothing poufy or frilly, though. Just… simple and classy."

"Calling something 'classy' instantly makes it less so, but I get where you're going. Elegant yet understated," noted Kurt, scribbling on his pad.

"Exactly," said Brittany, "the dresses as well as the rest of the wedding."

"Okay. So _please_, god, tell me you have a venue for this blessed event."

"Well, we were thinking Brittany's parents' place, but inside is a little small, and February isn't a good time for an outdoor wedding… I've got a call in to my cousin to see if we can use the smaller ballroom in his hotel in Columbus."

"Brittany's parents' place _definitely_ isn't big enough," Kurt said vehemently. "I mean, you two are the poster children for the bill; this will be a media event!"

"No!" bristled Santana. "That is the _last_ thing we want."

"Yeah, it's _our_ day, not the rest of the world's," Brittany agreed. "We'll take a few pictures to release to the press, but that's it."

"Oh-kay, noted!" huffed Kurt. He scribbled on his pad. "How many people do you think can make it on such short notice?"

"Maybe… thirty?" Brittany guessed.

"Is that all?" Kurt asked, eyebrows arched in surprise.

"Yeah… I mean, just some college friends, Santana's coworkers and some of my friends from nursing school."

"What about family?" Kurt asked.

The question hung in the air, swinging like a lead pendulum. Santana felt her chest tighten for a moment. She hadn't spoken to her mother since she told Dolores about the baby. Her father was definitely more supportive, but she didn't want to bank on him being at the wedding. "Probably just Brittany's," she forced out.

Kurt nodded slowly, looking down at his notes. "We'll save a few seats just in case."

Brittany grasped Santana's hand firmly on the armrest of her chair, saying nothing, yet everything Santana needed to hear, at the same time.

Santana steeled herself. "We're starting a _new_ family by getting married. So, whether my parents show or not, I'm good."

No one bought it, least of all Santana herself. Of course she was _overjoyed_ to be marrying Brittany. But nothing could replace her parents, no matter how distant they were now. Even after overcoming her own judgments and fears, speaking to hundreds of students, and championing media attention over SB 61, her parents' judgment still hurt. Nothing she could do would give her parents any pride at their daughter's marriage.

"We're focusing on the happy part," Brittany said as she drew Santana's hand onto her belly. Touching the warm bump always made Santana smile.

Kurt shook himself. "Right. You two are getting married!" he said with renewed enthusiasm. "And having a baby! Holy mother of Sofia Loren…"

"Maybe that's what we should name her," Santana grinned, patting Brittany's stomach.

"I approve!" Kurt said immediately, clapping a few times.

"Sofia Loren?" Brittany frowned.

Santana nodded with an impish grin.

Brittany rolled her eyes. "Ignore her, Kurt. We don't know if it's a boy or girl."

"You're waiting?"

Brittany nodded.

"She wants to be surprised," Santana complained. "I want to know already." She looked at Brittany, softening as she rubbed her hand over Brittany's belly. "But B is the baby-mama, so we're waiting. And we compromised on painting the nursery sage green."

"Gender-neutral child rearing is the new attachment parenting," Kurt remarked.

Santana wrinkled her nose, "What's 'attachment parenting'?"

"Something we're definitely _not_ doing," Brittany scoffed. "It means you never put the baby down. _Ever_. It always has to be held. Until it's like, two or something."

"People _do_ that?" Santana was horrified. "How do they live? How do they ever have _sex_?"

Kurt tilted his head back and laughed. "That _would_ be your biggest concern, Santana." He rolled his eyes. "I don't understand it either, but I do know not everyone has the good fortune to escape lesbian bed death."

"So we've heard," Brittany snickered. "I hope that doesn't change once the baby comes…" She looked up at the ceiling. "Someone once told me giving birth is like squeezing a watermelon out of a hole the size of a lemon… but instead of juice there's blood."

"_Oh_dear god," Santana muttered, putting her hand to her face and feeling sick to her stomach. She was beyond anxious about the birth process. Seeing Gordon in a hospital bed had sent her spinning into a panic attack, and the idea of Brittany in any state of semi-consciousness, distress or unplanned rawness made her stomach clench and twist, and her hands and feet go numb. She doubted her own body's ability to withstand helping Brittany through the labor.

Kurt's eyes bulged in their sockets, clearly almost as appalled as Santana. "Oh-kay, then… wedding!" he blurted. "Let's talk about that."

"Wedding," Santana echoed in relief. "Me and Britts gettin' hitched."

"I'm going to fire questions at you, and you just say the first thing that comes to mind, mmkay?"

The girls nodded.

"Secular or religious?"

"Secular," Santana said at the exact same moment Brittany said "Religious."

Santana and Brittany's eyes darted to each other. Santana gave Brittany a surprised frown, and Brittany looked suddenly nervous.

"Okay… I'll, uh, let you two work that out and you can get back to me. Who do you want to officiate?"

"I don't know." Santana shrugged. "What do you think, Britt?"

Brittany tilted her head and bit her lip. "Maybe we could talk to the pastor at my parents' church and see if she'd do it."

Santana's limbs stiffened as she tried to think of what to say. She didn't know how she felt about having a religious service or a pastor preside over them as they said their vows. She wasn't religious at all, and Brittany wasn't either, at least in the traditional sense. She wondered why Brittany was suggesting that someone with values different than their own officiate their wedding. It didn't feel like _them_.

Luckily Kurt kept firing questions at them. "Flowers?"

"Gardenias," they said in unison. They smiled, remembering their senior prom. Santana relaxed a little bit.

"Okay…" Kurt scribbled. "That takes care of the next question, eggshell or off-white…" Santana looked at him, puzzled. Kurt sighed. "When they're fresh, gardenias are eggshell, so it would look odd with off-white. _Obviously_."

"See, this," Brittany looked at Santana as she pointed to Kurt, "is why we need him."

"He knows his shit," Santana said, nodding in agreement.

"Are you going to have someone give you each away?"

The weight of the family issue was back in the air.

"No," Brittany stated. She didn't state why, it was just understood.

"Bridal party?"

"Our friend Elinor is going to be Santana's maid of honor, and my sister Hayley will be mine," Brittany said.

"Can we call her Maid of Pregnant Lady Service instead?" Santana teased. "You know, make her bring you olives and water and carry you when your feet get tired?"

"Aw, but that's _your_ job," Brittany grinned, running her fingers over Santana's ring.

Santana nodded, beaming. She brought Brittany's hand up to her lips to kiss her fingers.

Brittany smiled at Santana before turning back to Kurt. "No big wedding party. Just us and the maids of honor and the officiate. Oof!" Brittany gasped. "And the baby..." she said, shifting in her chair and putting a hand on her side with a wince.

Santana's hand flew to where Brittany's was. "Right there?" Santana asked, eyebrows arching in excitement.

Brittany squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. "I think baby feels left out or something because that was the hardest kick _ever_," she grimaced.

"Kurt, you've _gotta_ feel this," Santana exclaimed. "It's totally unreal. And I don't have to worry about you feeling her up while you're at it."

Kurt stood up from his chair to reach across the table and place his hand on Brittany's side for a few seconds. "Hm," he frowned. "_Fascinating_. I am _so_ glad I'll never have to understand the mysteries of the female body and all its capabilities." He sat back in his chair as Santana scowled at him.

"Don't make that face, sweetie," Brittany murmured, patting Santana's hand. "Not everyone is going to be as excited about our baby as we are." She turned back to him. "What matters is he's excited about our wedding! Yay!" she clapped.

"That's for certain!" Kurt replied. "So, afternoon or evening reception?"

Santana looked at Brittany, reading her expression before determining, "Afternoon. We're pretty tired at night." In truth, Santana wasn't tired at night at all, but Brittany's feet and back hurt and she had started to get grumpy at night. They had taken to resting on the couch, drinking herbal tea and reading or maybe watching a movie together on nights they were both home.

Kurt scribbled in his notebook as Brittany's phone buzzed on the table. Brittany looked at it and cringed.

"Sorry, guys, I have to take this," she said, picking it up. "It's my employer."

Brittany answered and frowned into the receiver as she exchanged a few words with the person on the other end. She let out a sigh and said, "Okay. I'm on my way."

Santana and Kurt glanced back and forth at each other as Brittany hung up the phone and slid it into her purse.

"I'm really sorry to end this, but Neil's not doing so well and the other nurse wants my assistance... I need to be there." She gave them an apologetic smile as she sat forward and turned toward Santana.

"No problem, no problem," Kurt assured. "We can continue this via Skype in the near future. You do what you need to do, mama."

Brittany's smile grew more apologetic as she thanked him for his generosity and stood, collecting her purse. Santana got up with her, helping her into her coat as they tucked their chairs in and said goodbye to Kurt.

"Is everything okay?" Santana asked, tilting toward Brittany in concern as they left the Lima Bean.

Brittany sighed and shook her head. "It's almost time. He wants me to be there."

Santana felt her stomach drop. Even though Neil was a crotchety old man, envisioning anyone on their death bed was uncomfortable.

"Are you going to be okay?" Santana asked. "I don't want you getting stressed out."

"I'll be fine," Brittany assured her with a lackluster smile. "This is part of the job... making it peaceful."

They drove back to Columbus with a solemn quiet in the car. Brittany rested her hand on her belly and watched the houses and trees and fields flicker past. Although she was saddened and pensive, Santana thought she looked all the more beautiful. She didn't think anyone could handle a man's impending death with more grace than Brittany.

* * *

><p>The day Neil died, their house became very quiet. Brittany didn't seem to be mourning. In fact, Santana saw contemplative relief in her eyes as they sat on the couch.<p>

"What was it like?" Santana asked, hesitantly curious.

"Miraculous," Brittany said, her voice distant and dreamy. "I've never seen him more peaceful. He knew it was time. He just needed permission to let go."

Santana nodded, trying to imagine Neil looking peaceful. It was difficult, but not impossible.

After a moment, Brittany continued. "We spend our whole lives struggling, you know? From the moment we're born, it's a fight. And to watch someone when they get to stop struggling..." she trailed off, recalling.

Her sentence hung in the air and Santana waited for her to finish, but after a moment, she realized she wouldn't. Santana rested her head on Brittany's shoulder, cradling Brittany's stomach. She knew Brittany was right; people did spend their lives struggling. She didn't want their precious little one to struggle at all. It made her heart tighten just thinking about it.

Seeming to know where Santana's thoughts were, Brittany spoke again, her voice still airy. "I hope Baby Pineapple met Neil as they passed each other. I know he really wanted to meet our baby."

Santana nodded against Brittany's shoulder. She wasn't exactly sure what Brittany meant about "passing each other," but she just let it go. She knew Brittany was just letting herself think out loud.

Brittany spoke about death so calmly, Santana was curious why other people spoke about it with such fear. It was, after all, a natural part of life. So was birth, but people spoke about birth with nothing but joy. To Santana, birth seemed almost more frightening than death. Shouldn't it be a little of both? Maybe that's what Brittany had meant.

"Do you think dying is like being born?" Santana asked. She felt silly asking existential questions like that, but she knew Brittany wouldn't think it was silly.

"Not really," Brittany said, pausing to contemplate for a moment. "I mean, I guess in some ways it could be... I don't remember being born and I haven't died yet, so I'm not really an expert. But watching Neil... he was just so peaceful in that final moment. And babies aren't peaceful at all when they're born. They scream and shake and wail."

Santana tried to picture a newborn, but all she could recall were images from TV and movies. She knew those babies weren't actually newborns; they were at least two months old.

"Did you know that when we are born, we release more stress hormones than at any other time in our lives? Being born is traumatic..." Brittany trailed off again, lost in her thoughts.

Santana felt her heart clench a little bit at Brittany's statement. She didn't want the first moments of their child's life to be traumatic; it was horrifying to think about such an innocent, helpless creature being forced into a world of struggle. And if birth was stressful for the baby, it must be harrowing on the mother, too. From everything they had learned in childbirth class, despite the instructor's efforts to soothe them, labor and birth would be the most traumatic event in Brittany's life since her own birth.

"What about the mom?" Santana asked her stomach tightening with anxiety. "I mean... what about you?"

"Well it's not going to be _fun_," Brittany said, a little bite in her words. "I'll probably scream and shake too. "

Santana pursed her lips. She dreaded seeing Brittany so unraveled.

"But it will be so worth it," Brittany assured as she patted her belly. "Won't it, little one?" she asked.

Santana slid her hand to the underside of Brittany's belly.

After a moment, Brittany smiled and tilted her head to look at Santana. "Baby says yes."

Santana inhaled, trying to store up Brittany's confidence so she could use it when the moment came. She leaned down and kissed Brittany's belly before resting her head gently against it. _It will be worth it_, she told herself.

* * *

><p>That New Year's Eve, Santana and Brittany stayed home and had a nice dinner by candlelight. Brittany was tired, so afterwards they lay on the couch watching <em>It's A Wonderful Life<em>. Even though Christmas had passed already, Brittany wasn't tired of holiday cheer.

"The message is still relevant," she explained, smiling when Santana frowned at her suggestion. "We should have that kind of gratitude and spirit _all_ year round."

Santana smiled and popped in the DVD while Brittany stacked cushions on one end of the couch to prop herself up. Santana sat in the middle of the couch, Brittany's legs draped over her lap. She rested one hand on Brittany's belly while the other hand ran up and down Brittany's legs, absentmindedly rubbing her feet or massaging her calves. A few times Brittany let out a contented sigh, a sleepy smile gracing her face as her gaze stayed fixed on the screen.

When the clock struck midnight, they toasted each other with sparkling apple juice and shared a simple, sleepy kiss. What it lacked in passion it made up for in tenderness.

"It's going to be our best year yet," Brittany murmured. "Our first year as mommies."

Santana smiled and felt her throat tighten with happiness. Unable to find words to add to Brittany's toast, she simply kissed Brittany again, over and over, until they were both drowsy and sated with happiness.

* * *

><p>A few weeks later, Santana was at work when her phone rang. Given that the wedding was three weeks away and both Kurt and Vickie were in a constant tizzy about it, her phone had constantly been ringing. Expecting Kurt or Vickie or Brittany to be on the other end, she didn't look at the caller ID as she answered.<p>

"What's up?"

"May I speak to Santana Lopez, please?" a formal male voice said on the other end.

"Speaking," Santana replied.

"My name is Andrew Keating and I'm calling from the estate of Neil Manning. I'm calling to inform you that Mr. Manning has bequeathed some of his assets to you."

"He... what?" Santana asked, stunned.

"He left you some money," Mr. Keating explained. "I have a check ready for you in the amount of twenty thousand dollars. You can come by my office and pick it up at your convenience."

"Twenty thousand..." Santana echoed. "But... _why_?"

"It was stipulated in his will that you were to receive that amount."

"Um... okay," Santana said, still shocked. "Any explanation?"

"No," Mr. Keating said brusquely. He gave Santana the address and she copied it down on a pad of paper in a daze. She thanked him and hung up, finally letting her jaw close as she brought her hands to forehead. Twenty thousand dollars was enough to buy, well... so many things! Her first ideas were for the baby, but they already had most of the things they would need for when the baby came.

She left work half an hour early and drove to the address Mr. Keating had given her. He handed her a check with a forced smile, joking, "don't spend it all in one place" as he turned back to his computer. On her way out of the building, she ran into Elinor.

"Hey!" she called in surprise, drawing Elinor's attention away from the screen of her phone. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh hey!" Elinor greeted, shaking herself out of the distraction of her phone as she walked toward Santana. "I got a call from some guy in charge of Neil's estate today."

"Yeah, me too!" Santana said, grinning.

"Oh yeah?" Elinor asked, eyebrows dancing up over a smile. "Good, I was hoping it was all of us."

"It's kind of weird, though, right?" Santana asked. "Inheriting money from some guy we barely knew?"

"Well... I guess," Elinor said, dipping her head. "But I kind of see it as a bonus for all the work we did to get the bill passed."

"Yeah," Santana said. Money aside, she was glad Neil had seen the bill pass before he died. It would have been a tragedy for him to die not knowing the good he had done in the world.

"So whatcha gonna do with it?" Elinor asked with a glint in her eye. "Your girl's already blinged out and I know you don't need much more baby gear."

"Yeah..." Santana said, looking around as she contemplated. "I want to get something for the baby, but a savings bond doesn't seem very exciting... practical, maybe, but Brittany would probably just shrug."

"You'll figure it out," Elinor shrugged. "And you know, there's always those law school loans and saving for a rainy day."

"Is that what you're going to do?" Santana asked.

"I'll save most of it, but I think I want to take Danielle somewhere for a week," she said, smiling. "I don't get her to myself very often."

"She'll love it," Santana assured. "She takes a little coaxing, but I think she loves it when you spoil her."

"I think she does too," Elinor said, her smile turning into a smirk.

"Well hey, good to see you!" Santana cheered, giving Elinor a quick hug. "And I'm sure I'll see you again soon."

"Well your bachelorette party is in three weeks!" Elinor reminded her. "I'll definitely see you before then."

"Bachelorette party?" Santana wrinkled her nose. "Since when am I having one of _those_?"

"Since I'm your maid of honor. Is your dress done?"

"They're taking the hem up this week, but yeah, it'll be done in time."

Elinor exhaled in relief. "I'm so glad you're doing a simple wedding rather than a giant production. God knows I love you, Lopez, but now that I'm kind of doing the mom thing with Andrew and Eliza, I don't think I could handle a full-blown wedding and still get dinner on the table and help them with their homework."

"You're welcome," Santana chirped. "And you _really_ don't have to throw me a bachelorette party. In fact, please don't. I'd rather just have a normal night with Brittany the night before."

"No, no," Elinor shook her head. "Your friend Kelsey and I coordinated. Kelsey and Sasha and I are taking you out and Danielle and Nicole are taking Brittany out. You don't have a say."

"Does Brittany know about this?" Santana asked, frowning.

"Of course," Elinor chuckled. "We knew _she_ wouldn't be the one to fight us on this. And we're not about to drag a pregnant lady out against her will. It'll be tame, I promise. Both yours and hers."

"No strippers?" Santana asked, eying Elinor skeptically.

"No strippers," Elinor assured.

"Hm..." Santana hummed. "Well, if Britt's okay with it, I guess it could be fun."

"It'll be great," Elinor said. "I promise."

"Okay, I'll talk to you soon," Santana said, turning towards her car.

"Bye!" Elinor called, waving as she walked into the building.

Santana pulled out her keys to open her car. They were comfortable, worn, and the key fob was a little dinged up. As she tried to unlock the car, the button stuck for a moment before the lights blinked and the locks clicked up.

And then she knew exactly what she would do with the money.

* * *

><p>Santana bounded into their apartment, beaming.<p>

"Britt, c'mere, baby!" Santana shouted down the hall from the entryway.

"What is it?" Brittany called from the bedroom.

"C'mere!" Santana repeated. "I have a surprise for you."

"You brought me an endless supply of olives?" Brittany asked, appearing in the doorway, eyebrows raised over a big grin.

"That can be arranged if you like," Santana giggled, picturing just how many jars of olives she could buy with twenty thousand dollars. "I have a feeling you're going to like this even better, though."

"What?" Brittany chirped, putting her hands on her back to support it.

"Get your purse," Santana said, reaching into the hall closet to get Brittany's coat. "We're going shopping."

"We already have everything we need for the baby," Brittany said, tilting her head.

"Not quite," Santana said, her smile growing smug.

"What else do we need? I know I'm forgetful, but I checked the list like a _hundred_ times… do you think we need more onesies?"

"No, we have enough," Santana chuckled. "Danielle said if we have thirty onesies we'll only have to do laundry every other day. But what I have in mind isn't on the list," Santana said.

"Okay..." Brittany said, stretching her neck forward, urging Santana to explain.

"Today I got a call from the guardian of Neil's estate. Neil left us a little money and I wanted to put it to good use."

Brittany looked surprised, but not as shocked as Santana had expected.

"So I was thinking," Santana continued, "our car is fine, but it's getting a little old, and I'd love to have a bigger, safer one for our little prince or princess."

"Wait, seriously?" Brittany asked, her eyes widening in delight. "You're taking me shopping for a new _car_?"

Santana grinned, jingling her keys. "Let's go, mamacita."

Several hours later, Santana and Brittany walked out of the local dealership holding the keys to a blue hybrid SUV. It wasn't new, but it was shiny and had all the extras, and most importantly, had passed a rigorous series of safety checks.

Brittany clapped in delight as they sat on the lot in their new car. "Oh, this makes me so happy, S!" she squealed. "Our old car was fine, but I like this one better. It will make me feel so safe with the baby."

"Uh huh," Santana said, puffing up with pride. "And we'll get some of those little mirrors so we can see the baby's face when we have to put the car seat in backwards while he or she is tiny. And sun shades once the weather gets nice. And if you want, a little 'Baby On Board' sign. Or even – even! – those little family stickers on the back window. Two moms and a baby."

"Aww!" Brittany cooed, struggling to lean over the console and kiss Santana on the cheek. "I think you're the proudest mama I've ever seen."

"Who could look at you and not be proud?" Santana asked, putting her hand on Brittany's knee. She inhaled, letting out a contented sigh. "So are you ready for your next gift?" she asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

"S, _no_," Brittany said with a pleading smile, "I'm already _so_ spoiled."

"Impossible," Santana said. "I plan to spoil you and our little prince or princess on a regular basis. Besides, your next gift isn't as big as a car. I know your back has really been hurting you so I got you a package of prenatal massages."

Brittany sighed and leaned her head against the seat. "It's a good thing I love you so much, because you have _ruined _me for anyone else."

Santana took Brittany's hand between hers, her energy softening as she looked at the contented glow on Brittany's face. She wanted to say a million things. _I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you. I can't wait to see what a fantastic mother you are. I'm so happy when I think about us growing old together. I think I'm the luckiest girl in the world._ But all those things sounded trite and overused, so she just gazed into Brittany's eyes, dreaming of all the things to come.

As she looked at Brittany, Brittany's eyes suddenly shifted and filled up with tears. Santana's heart lurched, unsure what had happened to make Brittany upset.

"What is it, baby?" Santana asked, urgency tingeing her voice. "What's wrong?"

Brittany sniffled and looked away, wiping her cheek as a tear spilled down. "Nothing," she whispered, batting her hand through the air.

Santana wasn't convinced. "Britt, what is it?" she pressed. "Did I do something wrong?"

Brittany shook her head more vehemently, wiping her other cheek. "It's just been a really big day..." she whimpered.

Santana felt so uncomfortable with Brittany's sudden shift, she switched into action mode. "Do you want to go home? Do you want a nap or a bath or a snack or something?"

Brittany shuddered, wiping her face and shaking her head again. She took several unsteady breaths. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm crying," she said, her voice wavering as she gave a watery, apologetic smile.

"It's okay Britt..." Santana said, reaching to take Brittany's hand. "You're allowed to cry. I just hope they're happy tears..." she looked at Brittany intently, trying to decipher if Brittany was happy or upset or just overwhelmed.

"They're happy," Brittany assured. She took several more deep breaths, squeezing Santana's hand. Finally Brittany exhaled, seeming to calm. "I want to show you something," she said, her voice slightly more sturdy.

"Okay..." Santana said, unsure where Brittany was going.

"We have to drive there," Brittany said.

Santana was intrigued, but let Brittany continue the mystery. Whatever it was, thinking about it made Brittany calm down. "Okay," Santana said. "Do you want to drive?"

Brittany shook her head. "I'll tell you where to go."

Santana nodded and gave Brittany's hand one last firm squeeze before she turned toward the steering wheel and started the electric engine. Brittany directed Santana through the streets of Columbus into a pleasant neighborhood. The houses were stately and established. Snow was covering everything, but trees and a few hearty shrubs were visible along the sidewalks.

"Okay, slow down," Brittany said as they started up a new block. She looked out her window and after a few seconds pointed and said, "Pull over here."

Santana pulled up to the curb and ducked her head to look at the house through Brittany's window. "Who lives here?" she asked.

"No one," Brittany said. "Yet," she added.

Santana's eyes darted to Brittany for a second before looking back at the house, trying to decipher why Brittany had brought her here.

"I got a call from the guardian of Neil's estate today too," Brittany began. "You know how Neil was always happy when I told him about us starting our family?"

"Uh huh..." Santana drawled, eyes darting between Brittany and the house as she waited for Brittany to reveal whatever she was dancing around.

"Well... he must care a whole lot about our family because..." Brittany's face scrunched up with tears as she started to shake again. "He left us his second house, Santana," she sputtered. "He left us a _house_!"

Santana's heart stopped for a moment as she stared at Brittany in utter shock. She couldn't speak, but after a moment she gasped, exhaling all the air in her lungs.

"A _house_?" Santana said, her eyes quickly filling with tears. "_That_ one?" she asked, nodding out the window toward the two-story.

Brittany nodded, bringing her hands up to her cheeks.

Santana looked out the window, taking in the house more thoroughly than before. It was painted a warm grey color with white trim and a brick-colored door. The front yard was slightly sloped and had a sidewalk leading up to the door. Snow-covered hedges lined the house under the large windows of the front rooms of the house. The second story windows were just as tall as the bottom floor, and the roof slanted to a steep point. There was a chimney on one end of the house, and a two car garage on the other.

Brittany was shuddering as her voice faltered as she put her hand on her belly. "The estate manager said that Neil wanted our kids to have a backyard and... that he knew you and I were a solid foundation, but he wanted us to have a physical one beneath us. He just... I can't believe..." Brittany started shaking and let herself be overwhelmed for a minute. "I just can't believe he cared _so much_."

"Oh my god," Santana gasped, staring at the house in awe. She was crying too. "A house, Britt? A real _house_?"

Brittany nodded, sniffling and wiping her chin as Santana looked out the window again, amazed. The house was more elegant than she had ever imagined their first house would be.

"Can we- can we go look?" Santana asked.

"Sure," Brittany said, finally smiling. "I don't have a key yet, but we can walk around to the back yard."

Santana zipped her coat up as she turned off the car and opened her door. Brittany got out of her side and they stood on the sidewalk for a moment, looking up at the house and feeling far too young to live in such a beautiful, stately house.

Brittany took Santana's hand and gingerly stepped onto the outline of the snow-covered lawn.

"The lawn is really pretty," Brittany said as the snow crunched beneath their feet. "I came here once before the snow came. Neil wanted me to get some books from his library."

"Library?" Santana asked, eyes widening. She had no idea how big the house was inside, but having a library sounded extravagant. From the outside she could see the inside wasn't enormous, but they would be more than comfortable in it.

"It's really an office," Brittany shrugged.

"So you've been inside?" Santana asked, eyes still wide as she surveyed the yard and the front of the house.

"Once," Brittany nodded. "It has a carved wooden banister on the staircase and the guest bathroom has a clawfoot tub."

Santana's heart ached. It was too good to be true. She pictured Brittany in the bathtub, giggling and flicking soap bubbles at her.

"How many bedrooms?" Santana asked. She immediately felt foolish and greedy; it was rude to ask about the details of such an outrageously generous gift. But then she realized the gift-giver wasn't there and felt less ashamed.

"I don't know," Brittany shrugged. "I just went in to get the books and had to pee before I left. But I remember it was beautiful."

Growing bolder, Santana gripped Brittany's hand and started to walk around the side of the house. Brittany followed. Their shock had softened and they were both smiling now. In the back yard they found a few bushes and what appeared to be some raised flowerbeds, but other than that, it was pretty empty. Santana's mind immediately started placing things on the snowy canvas: a swing set, a little sandbox, and a playhouse. In the summer, they would inflate a little pool or run the sprinkler, and in the winter, they would build snowmen. It was absolutely perfect.

Standing in the middle of the back yard imagining the childhood haven she could create around her, she turned to look at the house. The windows were frosted and dark, but she imagined the lights were on inside. She could almost make out the outline of a woman cradling a baby, holding it on her shoulder as they looked out the window into the yard where Santana stood. She was overwhelmed by all the possibilities before her. She sank first to her knees, then flopped onto her back, hair splaying over the snow beneath her, exhaling in pure joy. She lay there staring up at the house in wonder. Her voice barely above a whisper, she wondered, "How the hell did we get so lucky, Britt?"

Brittany settled down next to Santana, somewhat clumsily given the size of her belly. She leaned back on one arm, raising the other to point to a corner window. "I think that one's the office," she said. "And that one's the guest bathroom," she said, pointing again. "The master bedroom is there," she said, pointing to the opposite end of the house. She lay down next to Santana, reaching for her gloved hand. Their breath floated up between them, icy in the January air, fogging the vision of the house before them.

"And that's the nursery," Santana declared, pointing to the windows between where Brittany said the guest bathroom and the master bedroom were.

"Yeah," Brittany exhaled, rolling toward Santana. The snow crunched beneath them as Brittany snuggled into her. "That's the nursery," she echoed.


	72. Marry Me A Little

**Chapter 72 - Marry Me A Little**

**Soundtrack for this chapter: "Marry Me A Little" from the musical _Company_. Wait to press play until the first line break. Or don't. It doesn't really matter, but it fits the second half of the chapter better.**

**Please thank these fierce femme fenomenal women who keep my story intelligible: Mia, Emmas409, Sapphic Charmer, and****_especially_********terriblemuriel, who has a knack for teasing out meaningful Lopez family interactions.**

The last few weeks had been a blur. On top of working extended hours to accommodate her expanding work load, Santana was trying to get ahead so she could enjoy her honeymoon, and after that, her maternity leave. After working exceptionally long days, she would go home to a grumpy fiancée and be bombarded with wedding questions while frantically packing all their possessions into boxes for their upcoming move into their - _gorgeous_ - new house. Brittany, who was mostly unemployed since Neil had died - aside from a few one-day stints to cover for other nurses at the hospice agency - was doing what she could, but at seven and a half months pregnant, she couldn't do much lifting or excessive bending, and it all fell to Santana. Santana felt weary to the bone.

She had just stacked a box of law textbooks on top of a box of kitchen appliances when Brittany rounded the corner.

"Hey S, I scheduled a meeting with my parents' pastor tomorrow. She wants to chat with us before the rehearsal."

Santana stiffened. "Pastor?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "We didn't agree on that."

"I figured you wouldn't really care who married us," Brittany said, frowning. "You don't seem to care about anything else."

Santana was surprised at Brittany's bitterness and didn't quite know what to say. True, she had been slightly annoyed when Brittany had called her for the _fifth_ time in an hour earlier that week with wedding questions, and she really _didn't_ care what color their reception napkins were. But the officiate at their wedding ceremony was different.

"Britt, I care, just not about every little detail. The officiate is not a little detail. We never agreed on a religious ceremony." Santana began filling another box with books from the shelf, slightly more emphatically than before.

On the one hand, Santana was indifferent to religion. As long as no one forced their beliefs down her throat, she liked to live and let live. Starting with some of her Cheerio friends when she was younger, she had known plenty of people who were religious. She adored Vickie and Gordon and respected their beliefs. They used religion for personal strength and community. But that was different than having someone in official church robes preside over something as personal and meaningful as her wedding.

"Why do you have a problem with a pastor marrying us?" Brittany frowned, crossing her arms over her stomach in reproach.

Santana's brow knit in a hard frown back. "Because the only time we go to church is when we're in Lima visiting your parents. And honestly I _hate_ going to church because they're not really down with the whole _gay_ thing."

"The church doesn't have a problem with us!" Brittany protested, recrossing her arms. "Maybe some people who _go_ to the church interpret bible passages in ways that aren't nice, but Pastor Robbins is fine with us getting married. She's excited for us."

"Britt, I really don't want to talk about this now," Santana warned, feeling her anger start to bubble as she stacked the books higher in the box. "I'm exhausted and I want to get this done so I can go to bed."

"We _have_ to talk about it now," Brittany insisted. "The wedding is in three weeks and we still don't have an officiate. Pastor Robbins is available and inexpensive. I don't see what your problem is. She baptized Hayley and I want her to marry us. It would mean a lot to my family."

"Your family aren't the ones getting married," Santana argued. "We are."

"S, just because _your_ parents aren't involved in the wedding doesn't mean we're ignoring family altogether."

Santana gaped. She could not _believe_ Brittany had just brought her parents into their argument. Brittany knew better than that! She slammed a stack of books back into the bookshelf and glared at Brittany.

"Britt," Santana warned, "don't go there."

"You made me wait _two years_ to get married," Brittany continued, putting her hands on her hips, "and now you're not going to let me have something this important to me? Why are you being such a _control_ freak?"

Santana was flabbergasted at Brittany's accusations. Here she was, breaking her back working and packing and planning and tending to Brittany's needs, only to have Brittany distort her efforts and throw them in her face. She had had enough.

"Don't call me a control freak!" Santana snapped. "I'm not the one who decided we don't get to know the sex of our baby, or pick a name, or _anything_ else important! All I get to do is bring you olives and listen to you complain! And don't you _dare _talk about my parents." She stalked into the bedroom where she began throwing shoes into a moving box. "We are not having a pastor marry us, end of story!" she called over her shoulder. "I would rather have a Drag King Elvis impersonator!"

She heard Brittany opening a few doors and shuffling things around in the hall. Moments later Santana heard the front door open and slam shut.

She paused.

"Britt?" she called.

There was no answer.

"Brittany?" she asked, her voice meeker.

Still no response.

Santana walked out into the hall and saw the closet door was open and Brittany's coat was gone. She turned toward the door and saw that Brittany's keys were missing from their hook.

_Oh, fuck_, Santana muttered under her breath. Her heart raced as she flung the door open and flew down the stairs, only to see Brittany pulling out of the parking lot of their apartment complex in their new car. Santana called after her, but knew that Brittany couldn't hear, nor would she likely stop if she could. Santana stood on the sidewalk for a moment before the bitter January cold seized her and she shivered, turning back to their apartment.

Shutting the door behind her, Santana felt a huge wave of remorse. Why had she pushed Brittany so hard? It wasn't like she cared _that_ much who married them, as long as they got married. She knew Brittany's back was killing her and her feet were swelling and the baby was kicking up a storm, but Santana had just about _had_ it with catering to Brittany. Still, she should have been gentler. Brittany had just been so damn _grumpy_ this week, it was hard to keep smiling and "letting it go." But now, with Brittany leaving so abruptly, Santana began to panic that she had done irreparable damage. What if Brittany called off the wedding? It was improbable, but so was Brittany storming out. Without prompting, images of their empty apartment in New Haven flooded Santana. She knew she had even more to lose this time. She thought she'd gotten better at communicating with Brittany, but her blowup tonight seemed to indicate otherwise.

She hurried into the kitchen where her phone was charging to call Brittany and ask her to come back so they could talk. It wasn't fair for Brittany to just _leave_. But as she walked into the kitchen, she saw Brittany's phone was charging right next to hers.

Santana _really_ started to panic; her pregnant fiancée was out driving around in the dark on icy roads without a phone. Why would Brittany do something so _reckless_? It was downright irresponsible. Santana didn't know quite what to do, so she called Elinor.

"Hey, El," Santana gasped into the phone, still shivering from the thirty seconds she had been outside. "Will you tell me if Brittany shows up at your place?"

"Of course," Elinor replied. "Is everything okay?"

"We had an argument and she left without her phone and took the car and I don't know where she went and I'm just _really _worried about her," Santana said, letting her anxiety rush out in a string of words.

"What happened?" Elinor asked. Santana could hear her frown. "You guys argue, but you never fight like _that_."

"I know, that's why I don't know what to do!" Santana exclaimed.

"Okay, take a breath," Elinor said, stepping into her authoritative voice. "She probably just needed to cool off for a little bit. All you need to do is work on getting yourself calmed down so you can talk things out when she gets back."

Santana closed her eyes and tried to breathe, but found it difficult. "Okay," she exhaled. "Just let me know if she shows up."

"Of course. Do you want to talk about it?"

"I want to call a few more people."

"Okay. Let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks," Santana muttered. She hung up and called Nicole, who promised to let Santana know if she heard from Brittany.

After a few minutes of pacing, Santana decided to use her nervous energy to continue packing up the house, since she couldn't do much else. She went back to the bedroom and continued putting away the shoes, albeit less forcefully this time. But as she went to seal the box, she realized she had packed half of Brittany's shoes - the ones she needed for the next few weeks because they were the only ones that fit - and had to unpack everything. As she took each shoe out, she felt the overwhelming desire to apologize. Not to the shoes, but to the owner of the shoes she was so worried about. She was debating calling Elinor to talk through her worries when her phone buzzed against her hip. She pulled it out and saw a text from Elinor:

_She's here talking to Danielle. She'll come home in a bit when she's calmed down._

Santana exhaled in relief. After sending Elinor a thank you text, she repacked the box she had just emptied and sealed it, stacking it on top of a box of extra bedding.

Santana's phone rang again a few minutes later. Thinking it was Elinor or Brittany, she answered immediately. "Hello?" she asked with urgency.

"Hi, Santana," Antonio's calm, even voice rang through the receiver.

"_Hi_ dad," Santana said, surprised and trying to sound relaxed and casual. "How are you?"

"I'm wonderful. How are you, nena?"

"I'm doing okay. A little stressed out, but that's to be expected."

"Indeed," Antonio said, and Santana could tell he was smiling. "You have a lot on your plate."

Santana sat down on the edge of the bed. "Did you get the invitation we sent?"

"I did," Antonio said. "I was calling to congratulate you. I know this has been a long time in the making."

Santana was so happy he had called to wish her well, she decided to push her luck. "So... are you coming?"

"Well... you know how your mother feels," Antonio said, his tone apologetic.

"I know," Santana sighed. "But will _you_ come?" she asked, the hope in her voice making her sound young and a little fearful.

Antonio sighed. "I love you, pumpkin. And I think Brittany is a wonderful girl. But I can't cross your mother like that."

Santana deflated. "Yeah..." She'd expected as much, but she was still _so_ disappointed. She let a few seconds of silence pass before plucking up the courage to speak.

"Can I ask you something, dad?" she said, her voice hesitant.

"Anything, pumpkin."

Santana paused for a moment, unsure if she was ready to hear the answer to her question. But she had to know. "Why do you and mom stay married?"

"Because I love your mother very much," Antonio said without missing a beat.

"But... she just seems so angry and unhappy all the time," Santana pressed.

Antonio let out a sad chuckle. "Your mother doesn't hold things back when she's not pleased," he acknowledged.

"Why would you want to be _around_ that all the time?" Santana asked, her voice somewhat steely.

"Well..." Antonio began, his tone pensive and his words carefully chosen, "there are some days when I don't like her very much. Our relationship isn't perfect, but... no one's is. I've second guessed myself many times; wondered 'what if?' But at the end of the day, I want to go home to _her_. She's my wife. I love her and we're comfortable together. There's a lot to be said for staying with the person who knows and loves you best. I'm sure things aren't always perfect with you and Brittany. You've been together ten years, I'm sure you understand."

Antonio's quiet wisdom never failed to surprise Santana. It was like he _knew_ they'd just had a fight. She understood exactly what he was talking about; some days everything Brittany did was annoying, but there was no one she would rather come home to.

"Yeah..." Santana said, her voice betraying she wasn't sure about the comparison between her parents' marriage and her relationship with Brittany. She was _choosing_ to marry Brittany and knew without a doubt that Brittany was the love of her life. From what Dolores had said to her a few months earlier, Antonio and Dolores had gotten married out of a sense of obligation when they found out Dolores was pregnant.

"But mom told me..." Santana swallowed the lump in her throat and took a big breath before continuing, "mom told me that... that you guys never wanted to have me and I was the only reason you got married." She couldn't help the tears that began to break through. "So why stay married now that I'm grown up?"

"Aw, honey," Antonio cooed. "Do you really believe that? We _did_ want to have you. You just came a little earlier than we planned, that's all. You've always done things on your own terms, and being born was no exception," he chuckled. "And don't you worry; I knew I wanted to marry your mother since the day I met her."

"Really?" Santana asked. Hope was starting to fill her chest. Maybe she hadn't only been a burden to her parents.

"Really," Antonio confirmed. His tone was certain and Santana felt a little bit of the family hurt drain. "We just went about things a little differently than other couples. Kind of like you and Brittany did," he smiled. "I was so happy when your mother told me you were coming. Scared out of my mind, but so happy. You have been one of my biggest blessings, Santana."

Santana felt the tears surge and there was a moment of quiet as she tried not to sniffle into the receiver.

"Daddy, I really want you to come to my wedding," she choked. "I'm only going to have one. I want you to be there and I want you to see how beautiful Brittany is while she's pregnant."

"Your bride will be even more pregnant at her wedding than mine was!" Antonio laughed.

Santana sniffled and grinned at the image of a glowing and hugely pregnant Brittany in white, but then her smile vanished when her father didn't answer her plea and she knew he wouldn't be there to see it. She was hurt and angry at her mother for controlling her father so much.

"How do you do it, daddy?" she asked. "How can you stay with her when you disagree so much?" She wasn't sure if she was angry at him or in awe of him for the longevity of his marriage. She didn't want to name it specifically, but she wondered how much impact she'd had on her parents' marriage. Had they stayed together just because of her? Were their disagreements all about her? About her and _Brittany_?

"How do you stay married when you disagree on the big things?" she added.

_Especially about me?_

Antonio took a moment to take a deep breath. "A good marriage isn't all romance," he said, dancing around what Santana was alluding to. "It's hard work and it's standing by the woman you love even when it feels like it would be easier not to. Even when you disagree. Even when you're angry or disappointed and even if the passion's not there any more."

Santana felt a surge of panic at that thought. Sure, she'd been angry at Brittany before and she certainly knew what it was like to feel distant, but the thought of not feeling passion with her soon-to-be wife was terrifying. What if it _did_ dissipate? What if it happened slowly and one day she woke up and couldn't remember why they'd gotten married? Was such a thing possible? Or what if Brittany's depression came back and Santana couldn't help retrieve her? Would it be the same as last time, when she didn't notice until it was too late and Brittany was gone? Or what if the baby drove them apart? What if they disagreed on everything from diapers to braces to driving privileges and their marriage became one fight after another? What if Santana wasn't able to stick by Brittany, no matter how hard she tried? It was too uncomfortable to think about.

Contemplating how their child might affect her relationship with Brittany, Santana realized her father had gone through so much more in his marriage than she had ever considered. And with _Dolores _no less, the queen of passive aggression and unwarranted bigotry. She was in awe, in a way. "Well... I applaud you for getting through twenty eight years," she said, resigned to the fact that she might never understand how her parents' marriage worked. "And I know you don't want to cross her... but please consider coming to our ceremony at least."

Antonio sighed, not in exasperation, but in contemplation.

"Tell me about the rest of your life, nena," he said, changing the subject.

Santana felt her chest slump at his avoidance, but buoyed herself with thoughts of their new house.

"We're moving," she said, forcing a cheerful tone. It was relatively easy to manage that, given that she still couldn't quite believe their good fortune. "Neil Manning, the man who sponsored the writing of the bill, left a house to Brittany and me. She was his hospice nurse for a few months."

"He left you a _house_?" Antonio exclaimed. "Dios mio, Santana! Congratulations! When are you moving?"

"We already started taking boxes over, but we'll move in right around the wedding," Santana said, looking around her at the stacks of boxes and half-assembled furniture, and starting to feel overwhelmed again. "It's really stressful, since Brittany can't lift or carry much. I hired movers for one day but it's still going to be a lot..."

"Let me come help you," Antonio offered. "I may be getting old, but I can still carry things."

"You'll never get old, daddy," Santana grinned. "I would love your help."

"Just tell me what day and I'll swap shifts with someone," Antonio said. "Anything for my baby girl."

Santana smiled, but couldn't help but feel let down. _Anything_, she heard, _except come to your wedding._

After they hung up, Santana contemplated what her father had said about marriage being hard work and sometimes not feeling remotely affectionate toward one's spouse. She had experienced that with Brittany on occasion, but it always went away quickly. To allay her fears, she vowed to make everything right the minute Brittany got home. She didn't want to head into their marriage feeling any kind of strain.

* * *

><p>"Britt!" Santana cried when she heard the door open an hour or so later. She raced to the hall and took Brittany by the arms, checking to make sure she was okay. "Baby, I'm so sorry! I'm so, so sorry..." her voice grew hushed as she wrapped her arms around Brittany's shoulders and pulled her close. "I should never have pushed you like that. I didn't mean what I said about you being controlling or complaining all the time. I know you're uncomfortable and I shouldn't be so tough on you. And I really don't care who marries us as long as we get married. You can call the pastor right now if you want. Just don't ever scare me like that again, okay? I'll try not to be such a bitch."<p>

"I'm sorry too," Brittany murmured as she let out a relieved sigh. She leaned forward into Santana and wrapped her arms around Santana's waist. Santana braced herself by putting one foot out behind her so she could hold Brittany's weight as Brittany's belly pressed into her. She felt herself loosen at the physical contact and she just held Brittany there, relaxing as she felt Brittany's warmth soak through their clothes.

"_Please_ never walk out on me like that without telling me where you're going, sweetheart," Santana begged, her lips pressed near Brittany's ear. "It makes me think of back in New Haven when you left."

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry," Brittany mumbled into Santana's hair. "I didn't even _think_ of that. I didn't mean to scare you. I don't know why I got so mean. I think my hormones are making me crazy," she sighed.

"Pregnancy isn't a mental condition, Britt," Santana replied, smoothing Brittany's hair and pressing Brittany into her. "Hormones don't mean your feelings don't matter. You being pregnant doesn't make this argument any less serious or real."

"I know..." Brittany said, pulling back and looking at her hands. "I hate when people write off pregnant women's feelings saying they're just hormonal."

"Me too," Santana agreed. She wasn't sure how Brittany would take what she wanted to say next, but if she had any hope of resolving their argument she needed to let Brittany know she was hurt too. She looked at Brittany intently as Brittany continued playing with her hands. "But the other side of that is... the hormones don't get you off the hook for what you said."

Brittany sighed in acknowledgement, tucking her chin even lower. "I know... I can't believe I brought up your parents. I'm so sorry, Santana..."

"That was what pushed me over the edge," Santana nodded, retreating a bit. "That was really low, Britt."

"I'm so sorry..." Brittany mumbled. "As soon as I said it I wanted to take it back. I was like _oh shit, did I really just say that?_ I was just so mad and... I can't believe I was so mean," Brittany repeated, putting her face in her hands.

"You're allowed to be mean sometimes," Santana murmured. "We all get mean once in a while. Just don't bring up my family. That's not okay."

"I know, I'm _so_ sorry, I won't do that again..."

Feeling partially satisfied, Santana wanted to move their conversation to somewhere besides the hall. "Can we go sit in the living room?" she suggested.

Brittany nodded and peeled off her coat, hanging it in the closet. "Let me get something to eat first," she said.

"What do you want?" Santana asked by reflex.

"I can get it," Brittany said. "You're working really hard and I'm asking too much of you..."

Santana felt her chest loosen further at the recognition that she was working hard. When Brittany joined her on the couch with a cup of yogurt in her hand, Santana said, "It's not too much, Britt. It's a _lot_, but it's what I have to do so we can have what we want."

Brittany nodded as she peeled the lid off her yogurt. "Let me know what I can do to make things easier for you," she said, licking the lid before folding it and putting it on the coffee table.

"Okay. And I'm really sorry I snapped," Santana repeated. "I'm happy to go talk to the pastor tomorrow if it's really important to you that she marry us."

Brittany contemplated for a moment, glancing at the wall before looking back at Santana. "Well..." she began, "I _would_ like her to marry us. But not if it's going to make you uncomfortable or upset. And you have a point that you compromise for me a lot. I didn't let you have any say in finding out the sex of the baby or not picking out a name ahead of time... so I was thinking that _I_ should probably compromise for once. We could have pastor Robbins do a marriage blessing another time for my parents. The important part is just getting married and we can just get a justice of the peace to do that," Brittany said.

Santana smiled. "Really, B?" she asked. "You're okay with that?"

Brittany nodded decisively. "Besides, I'll be so captivated by how gorgeous you are in your white dress I wouldn't even hear what the pastor is saying," she winked.

Santana grinned wider and rolled her eyes a little before leaning in to kiss Brittany on the cheek. Brittany kissed her on the cheek back.

"I'm excited to see your dress," Santana said, feeling resolved enough to move on.

"I'm excited for the honeymoon," Brittany said with a twinkle in her eye.

"I was thinking about that," Santana said.

"Oh?"

"I have an idea. What do you think of having our honeymoon at the hotel in town so we don't have to do any flying or driving?"

"I think that sounds amazing," Brittany said, exhaling. "I don't think I could handle traveling with Baby Honeydew."

"It's not a honeydew yet," Santana said, placing her hand on Brittany's belly and looking down at it. "It's still a pineapple."

"It feels bigger than a pineapple," Brittany said. "I feel _huge_."

"Well you look beautiful," Santana said, looking Brittany in the eye again.

"Thank you," Brittany sighed in contentment. "I think I'm going to get ready for bed," she said. "Come snuggle there?"

Santana nodded, relieved.

As she curled around Brittany that night, Santana closed her eyes and imagined Brittany in her white gown, belly even bigger than it was now. She saw Brittany smiling - no, glowing - as she held her hand at the altar, oblivious to everything around them. She saw Brittany smiling and twirling around their hotel suite when they were finally married, collapsing onto the bed in an elated, blissful stupor. And as the vision changed and Santana drifted into sleep, she saw a tiny baby with dark eyes and pale freckles just like Brittany's gazing up at her from Brittany's arms.

* * *

><p>"You better have a good reason for not calling me back sooner, Sasha," Santana threatened when she picked up. "It took you a whole fucking day to answer the most urgent voicemail you've ever received from me."<p>

Sasha chuckled. "I could tell it wasn't an emergency, but other than that, I have no excuse. You're going to forgive me anyway, so just tell me why you called."

"I need your opinion on something. And be straight with me."

"Can't do that."

"What?"

"Can't be straight. Tried that. Too gay."

Santana let out an exasperated sigh. "Ugh, you know what I meant. I want your help with something, but you have to promise not to tell Brittany."

"Did you get some other girl pregnant?" Sasha gasped.

"Very funny," Santana retorted. "I just want your help with her wedding gift."

"Okay, spill."

Santana grinned. "I want to do something to show her how much I love her and how excited I am for the baby. But we're trying not to spend any more money than we already have on the move and the wedding. We have a baby coming, after all..."

"Yeah, I hear those things are expensive."

"No kidding," Santana replied. "What I want to do for her isn't something I can buy. I want to have our new house all set up for us so we can just enjoy our honeymoon and not be unpacking boxes to find our bathrobes or shampoo, you know?"

"That's perfect," Sasha said. "She'll love it."

"You think?" Santana asked.

"She'll swoon over it. Literally. She'll be putty in your meddling little hands."

"Hey, I don't meddle!"

"Oh right, that was Brittany, back in college, who meddled with my love life."

"Yeah, and you and Kelsey are _still_ thanking her for that," Santana chuckled. "So you think she'll like it?"

"If she doesn't, she's not the Brittany I knew in college and I will personally tell her not to marry you."

"Hey!" Santana laughed.

Sasha laughed in response. "Don't worry about this gift," she assured. "Kelsey and I are there."

"Awesome," Santana replied. "I knew I could count on you. And not a word of this to her!"

"Okay," Sasha huffed.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

* * *

><p>"It's not a lesbian bachelorette party without power tools," Sasha grinned, raising a drill in the air as she breezed through the front door of the new Lopez-Pierce house. "Where do we start?"<p>

It was the morning of the day before the wedding. Santana had made breakfast for Brittany and given her a big, wet kiss, saying she had to run errands all day and would be back for a quick dinner before their respective bachelorette parties.

But instead of running errands, Santana had rushed over to their new house to meet Elinor, Sasha, Kelsey and Denton. All the furniture - except for the bed that Brittany was probably still dozing in - had been transported to the new house a few days prior with the help of movers and Santana's dad. Elinor, Kelsey, Sasha and Denton planned to spend the day frantically unpacking and organizing the house so Santana and Brittany could enjoy their honeymoon in it to the fullest extent.

After a day of hauling, moving, assembling, unpacking, hanging, draping, stacking and organizing, Santana looked at her watch and saw it was already seven o'clock.

"Okay, Lopez, your bachelorette party has officially started!" Sasha called up the stairs to the nursery where Santana had just finished assembling the crib.

"Wait, _what_?" Santana said, startled. "I promised Britt we'd have dinner together!"

"She's already at _her_ party," Elinor said. "Danielle picked her up twenty minutes ago. She's in a for a night of fun."

"Elinor, you _promised_ no strippers and I'm holding you to that," Santana warned.

"No strippers," Elinor sighed. "But there's a case of champagne downstairs waiting for you."

"A _case_?" Santana gasped. "El, there's only five of us!"

"Four," Kelsey smirked. "Denton bolted when he saw the fuzzy handcuffs and lollipops shaped like boobs."

"_Please_ tell me you're kidding," Santana said, her voice low with warning. "Because if you subjected my boss to any kind of ridiculous bachelorette party shenanigans I will-"

"Relax," Elinor giggled. "No handcuffs or boob lollipops or anything else. Just a few bottles of champagne and a car with a driver waiting for us outside."

"Where are you taking me?" Santana asked, eyeing her friends in suspicion.

"Home to shower, first of all," Sasha said, wrinkling her nose, "And then out to dinner at a super swanky restaurant."

* * *

><p>Several hours later, Santana stumbled into the hotel room Kelsey and Sasha had rented for the occasion at Carlos' hotel. She hadn't been this drunk in a long time and was actually a bit taken aback at how low her tolerance was now. At first Santana had refused the drinks her friends offered her, saying it wasn't fair since Brittany didn't get to drink at her party. But Elinor had rolled her eyes and called Brittany.<p>

"Do you care if your fiancée drinks tonight?" Elinor asked. Elinor listened for a second before smiling and hanging up. Turning toward Santana with a smirk, she said, "Brittany says have an extra drink for her and the baby."

After splitting a fourth bottle of champagne with her friends, Santana finished what was in her glass. Elinor plucked it from her hands, reaching to refill it as Sasha cleared her throat to read a page of the _Bachelorette Party Mad Libs_ book they were drinking their way through. It was dorky as hell, but they were four bottles of champagne away from caring.

"Guys I don't know if I'm crying or laughing!" Santana gasped after Sasha read the results of their Mad Lib. She wasn't the only one rolling on the floor of the hotel room. "I really don't know!" she exclaimed, pressing her hand into her stomach. "I just know you guys are the bestest friends ever and I'm so glad you made me have this stupid party..."

After another round of Mad Libs and another glass of champagne, Santana's vision was blurry and her stomach hurt from laughing over the stupidest answers they had come up with for the game.

"Okay, I think I'm crying now," Santana said when she suddenly felt her stomach drop. "Definitely crying. What's Brittany doing at her party?" she asked tearfully, looking around at her friends in worry. "Why can't I be there with her?"

"Shh..." Elinor cooed. She was the soberest of the four. "They're doing a belly cast of her tummy and getting massages and pedicures."

"But she can't go to a nail salon!" Santana protested, approaching hysterical. "She can't breathe the fumes!"

"It's okay, S," Elinor said, patting Santana's arm. "They hired someone to come do pedicures at our house. She won't breathe any fumes."

"Are you sure?" Santana pressed.

"I'm sure," Elinor assured. "Danielle's been pregnant twice, she knows the rules. I promise Brittany's safe and having a good time."

"I want to talk to her!" Santana sobbed, tears trickling hot down her face as she tried to brush them away with sloppy, uncoordinated hands. "I've been away from her all day and I want to tell her how much I love her and how much I love the baby and how she's the most beautiful woman in the world!"

"Oh-kay, I think you've had enough, missy," Kelsey determined, taking Santana's glass out of her hands.

"Guys, I don't know if I can do this!" Santana choked, dropping her head to the carpeted floor as she felt herself unravel further. "I don't think I'll be a very good wife."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Hush already."

"Yeah, right."

"Santana, you've _got_ this," Elinor assured. "You've already put in ten years. I think you've got another sixty or seventy in you."

"It's not that I don't want to marry her – I do!" Santana blubbered. "I just feel like I'm never gonna be enough, no matter how much money I make or how much time I spend with the baby or how much I tell her I love her or-"

"You won't," Elinor said, shrugging.

"What?" Santana panted.

"You won't be enough for her. And she won't be enough for you."

"Yes she _will_!" Santana exclaimed, appalled at Elinor's statement. "She's my everything!"

"No she's not," Elinor declared, shrugging. "Is she your maid of honor?"

"No, that's _you_, but-"

"Is she the one who planned the wedding?"

"No, but-"

"Is she your boss or your best friend or your hairdresser or your therapist or your accountant?"

"No."

"So… she's _not_ everything?"

"No…"

"Do you think she should be?"

"No…"

"So there you go. You don't have to be her everything, nor she yours."

"But marriage is supposed to be about committing one hundred percent to each other and no one else!" Santana declared.

"No it's not," Elinor said with an amused scoff. "The people I know who are married and are happy don't think of it like that. Danielle said it best: marriage is promising to choose each other over and over again, even when it's really hard."

Santana sniffled, calming a bit. "That's what my dad said."

Sasha piped up. "I think it's also about recognizing that you're human and you're not always going to be perfect, individually or together. Can you commit to not being perfect for the rest of your life?"

"Yeah…" Santana whimpered.

"Can you commit to accepting that Brittany isn't going to be perfect for the rest of _her_ life?"

"Definitely."

Elinor jumped in on Sasha's effort to bolster Santana. "And will you choose her over and over again?"

"_Yes_. Absolutely yes."

"So… you're ready to get married?" Elinor asked with a playful smile.

"…Yes."

"Okay, then I think we should get a good night's sleep. You've got a bride waiting for you in the morning." Elinor playfully nudged Santana on the shoulder with her fist. Santana chuckled and nudged her back before rolling sideways into a hug.

As Elinor tucked Santana into bed after giving her several glasses of water and an aspirin, Santana mumbled, "What would I do without you guys?"

"Cry," Kelsey piped up from her place on the other bed. "Buckets and buckets."

Santana let out a sad, sighing laugh. "I seem to do plenty of that on my own," she said.

"And we love you for it," Elinor said, tucking the covers under Santana's chin. "Every last tear," she said with a playful pout.

Santana laughed and a few more tears squeezed out of the corners of her eyes. She wiped them away and smiled at the three women around her. It had been a long time since she felt so embraced by people other than Brittany. "Thanks for helping with the house and for taking me out tonight, guys," she sniffled. "And most of all thanks for coming to my wedding. I couldn't have made it here without you."


	73. Being Alive

**Chapter 73 - Being Alive**

**Soundtrack for this chapter: "Being Alive" from the musical _Company_. Try the Patti Lupone Version.**

**Please thank these fierce femme fenomenal women who keep my story intelligible: Mia, Emma's 409, Sapphic Charmer, and _especially _terriblemuriel.**

* * *

><p>Santana was perched on the end of a vanity bench with her eyes closed, leaning forward as Elinor did her makeup. Everything was quiet and still in the hotel room around them. As Elinor ran the soft brush over Santana's cheekbones and jaw, Santana felt her nerves settle.<p>

"Feels good," Santana mumbled, trying not to move her jaw. "Britt used to use brushes like this when she worked with a little boy who has autism. She said it worked like magic to calm him down, too."

"Makeup can be therapeutic," Elinor smiled. She kept her voice soft, not wanting to disturb the peaceful state she had finally gotten Santana into. "How are you doing, chica? Still calm?"

"Still calm," Santana murmured, basking in the way Elinor dragged the brush over her skin.

"Good," Elinor said, picking up a tiny brush to shape Santana's eyebrows. "Do you remember your lines?" she teased.

"I only have one that isn't written down," Santana said with a faint grin.

"And what is it?"

"_I do_."

"Perfect. That's all you need to know."

Santana took a deep breath and let it out. "I'm just going to pretend there's no one there but Brittany. If I look at her the whole time, I'll be fine."

"Sounds like a plan," Elinor said. "She has been a big calming force in your life."

Santana hummed her agreement. "Have you heard from her?" she asked, perking up.

"Danielle's with her," Elinor assured. "You'll see her in about half an hour. How's your head?"

"Fine," Santana said. "I'm not hungover at all."

"Good," Elinor smiled.

There was a soft knock on the door and Elinor rose to answer it.

Kelsey and Sasha poked their heads in.

"How you doing, blushing bride?" Kelsey asked.

"Latin women don't blush," Santana grinned.

"I know, and I'm so disappointed because just _think_ of all the things I'd be able to tease you about if I knew every time you were embarrassed," Sasha sighed.

"Hey, no teasing, she's finally calm," Elinor warned. "If you get her riled up I won't be able to finish her makeup."

"Okay," Sasha smiled. "Kelsey and I just came to _calmly_ wish you all the best and to tell you we left a little surprise at your house for you and Brittany to enjoy."

"Please tell me it's nothing that will embarrass me," Santana said, trying not to cringe as Elinor sat back down and smoothed creme blush on her cheeks.

"No, no," Kelsey assured. "It's something nice."

"What?" Santana asked. Sasha was a notorious prankster and she didn't want any surprises today.

"When we went back this morning to set up the bed, we decorated the bedroom so it would be more of a honeymoon suite."

"Decorated how?" Santana asked, still a little concerned.

"With white Christmas lights and fabric and candles and pillows and shit," Sasha said. "Danielle may or may not have had something to do with it."

"Aww... you guys!" Santana cooed before clucking her tongue. "You are too sweet. Britt will _love_ it. She still thinks we're staying here in the hotel tonight."

"You look super sexy in your dress," Sasha said, giving Santana an exaggerated once-over.

"Thanks, but don't let Kurt hear you say that," Santana warned. "He gave me a lecture about how one of the biggest travesties known to Western civilization is the sexy bride. I think you can be sexy and still be classy."

"Well in that case you look classy as shit," Sasha remarked. "And just wait 'til you see Brittany."

"Oh, did you guys see her?" Santana asked, perking up.

"We did," Kelsey grinned.

"And?" Santana asked urgently.

"Hey!" Elinor warned. "Don't make me kick you guys out. I have to keep her calm."

"Sorry, sorry," Sasha said, holding up her hands and taking a few steps back. "We'll go save seats in the front. We just wanted to say 'hi' and 'congratulations' in case we don't get a chance to chat at the reception."

"We love you, S," Kelsey smiled, "And we're _so_ happy for you and Brittany."

"Thanks guys," Santana grinned. "I'll see you out there." She turned back so Elinor could finish her makeup as Kelsey and Sasha shut the door behind them.

Elinor smiled and held up an open tube of lipstick, gesturing for Santana to pucker. Elinor coated her bottom lip and rubbed her own lips together, instructing Santana to do the same to spread the lipstick evenly. She reached for a palette of eye shadow and Santana shut her eyes. As Elinor made her first swipe over Santana's left eye, there was a knock at the door. Thinking it was Sasha and Kelsey again, Elinor called, "come in!"

Santana heard the door open and felt Elinor freeze. She cracked one eye open and looked toward the doorway. Her eyes flew open and her heart stopped.

There stood Antonio with a nervous smile on his face.

Santana's chest contracted as she gasped and jumped up from the bench. "Dad!" she exclaimed.

Santana almost tripped over her dress as she ran to the doorway and wrapped her arms around his neck. He was warm and sturdy and smelled exactly the way he had when Santana was little and ran to meet him at the door when he got home from work. She held him there until she felt him stiffen just a hint; he had never been one for prolonged displays of affection. She pulled back and smiled at him, trying not to betray how overwhelmingly happy she was that he had come.

"You look breathtaking," Antonio said, looking Santana up and down. "Just as pretty as your mother did."

Santana felt her throat close up and her eyes burn with tears. She took a shaky breath, trying to calm herself.

Elinor rose from her chair and swept out of the room, whispering, "I'll come back in a little bit," and winking at Santana as she closed the door.

"Sorry I'm not really dressed for the occasion," Antonio muttered, looking down at his khakis and polo shirt. "I told your mother I was playing golf with the chief of surgery... but since there's still snow outside I don't think she bought it..." he said with a grimace.

"I don't care what you're wearing, I'm just so happy you're here!" Santana said, her voice strained as she hugged her father again. "What made you change your mind?" she asked in amazement.

"Well…" Antonio glanced at the ceiling, "what I said about marriage and sticking by your wife even when you disagree is true. But you're about to be a mother too, and I figured there was another piece of advice I should give you: being a parent is loving your child more than anything else and supporting her when other people don't."

Santana couldn't stop the tears from overflowing. She had been waiting her whole life for her father to come through for her like this. She fell onto him again, sniffling and shaking as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Hey, hey, don't cry," Antonio said with a smile. "You'll smear your makeup."

Santana shuddered and wiped her eyes. "It's okay," she said, pulling back and giving him a watery smile. "It's waterproof. And she'll fix it anyway," she said, nodding toward the door Elinor had just exited through.

"So do you want me to give you away or something?" Antonio asked. "Is Gordon giving Brittany away?"

"Aw, I would love that," Santana said with a sad smile. "But we're not doing it that way. Britt's parents are sitting with everyone else. It's just going to be me and her up there. But I want you to sit in front with Vickie and Gordon, okay?"

Antonio smiled and looked a little relieved. "Sounds perfect, nena."

"And if I get too nervous and look at you, just smile, okay?"

Antonio grinned. "You won't be too nervous."

"I hope not," Santana sighed, steeling herself. "I always get so nervous when something is really important. I forget what I'm supposed to do no matter how many times I go over it in my head..."

"All you have to do is stand there and hope you don't fall over," Antonio joked. "As long as you wore sensible shoes, I'm sure you'll be fine."

Santana let out a gasping laugh and lifted the hem of her dress, revealing white shoes with a modest two-inch heel.

"Looks like you're set," Antonio chuckled.

"I am now," Santana said, looking her father in the eye with a smile.

* * *

><p>Elinor adjusted Santana's dress as they waited by the door in the side room of the hall where the ceremony was about to start. As the ceremony had drawn closer, Santana's previous calm had dissipated and been replaced by uncontrollable jitters. She fidgeted with her bouquet, her necklace, and checked to make sure no curls were out of place until Elinor told her to just concentrate on breathing. She held her bouquet in a death grip as if it would ground her. Elinor turned and placed her hands on Santana's shoulders, looking her in the eyes with a smile.<p>

"Just breathe, Santana," Elinor soothed. "You've wanted this since the day I met you. There's nothing to be afraid of." She had the most confident, calm smile. Santana exhaled and smiled back as she nodded.

"The music's going to start in a few minutes, so I'm going to go in there and sit down. But I'll be right in front, waiting to take your bouquet. And if you get scared, just look at me and I'll do this," she said, scrunching up her shoulders and giving Santana two thumbs up over a goofy grin.

Santana let out a nervous chuckle. "What if I feel like I'm about to faint?" she asked, only half joking.

"Then do this," Elinor said, opening her eyes as wide as she could and raising her eyebrows in a comically concerned expression. "And I'll jump up and catch you."

Santana laughed and nodded. "Okay."

"Okay," Elinor said, looking Santana in the eye, her face calm and happy.

As Elinor put her hand on the doorknob, Santana said, "wait!"

Elinor turned back and Santana simply said, "hug?"

Elinor grinned as if to say _of course_ and wrapped her arms around Santana. She pulled away, grinning. "Next time I talk to you I'll be able to call you Mrs. Lopez-_Pierce_."

Santana's stomach fluttered as Elinor squeezed her shoulder and opened the door, shutting it behind her.

Alone for the first time in several days, Santana looked at the door in front of her, taking in the last moment of quiet. She had traveled _so_ far to get here. While things hadn't always seemed so at the time, she felt – no, _knew_ – that everything in her life had happened exactly as it was supposed to.

An image of Brittany in the New Haven orchards flashed through her mind. Brittany's laugh seemed to echo through her head as Santana remembered trying to catch each apple Brittany tossed down. Even though it had been years, it was the first happy thing Santana thought of. Perhaps the memory was surfacing now because everything seemed perfect in the orchard, just as everything was perfect now.

Santana remembered the times that she had felt more connected to Brittany than ever in the most beautiful, terrifying ways; when they had finally made love after months of distance; when Brittany had asked Santana to marry her; when Brittany cried into Santana's chest because she knew they would never be able to make a child together; and the joy they had shared when they found out they would _finally _be parents.

As she bowed her head in reverence for all the miraculous things that had graced her life, her gaze fell on the carpet of the hotel conference room at her feet. It was the same carpet that had run throughout the hotel for as long as Santana could remember. This hotel had marked so many changes in her life. She smiled, realizing she was about to get married in the same place she had lived while writing the marriage equality bill; the same place she had picked up countless deposits while they were trying to start their family; the same place she publicly outed herself during a press conference; the same place she had waited in breathless anticipation for Brittany to arrive on the first night they made love as a couple ten years ago. On that night the world seemed to crack open, leaving nothing impossible. That night, at age seventeen, if only for a fleeting second, Santana may have let herself dream of someday marrying Brittany.

Somewhere behind another door leading to the same room, Santana knew Brittany stood waiting too. It was an imperfect mirror image: two women in white standing in front of a door, waiting for the rest of their lives to start, pregnant with hope and love and child.

And then the music began. Strings first, the opening chords of the processional that was supposed to bring Santana in. She put her hand on the doorknob, took a slow, deep breath, and opened the door.

The room within had been transformed. Pale pink rose petals marked the path she was to walk; a simple aisle in front of the guests, rather than through. Lining the rows of chairs were small pillars topped with vases of white flowers. A small platform stood at the front of the room where the officiate was waiting. And directly in front of Santana, across the room on the other end of the aisle, was the open doorway that framed Brittany. Santana could hardly breathe at the sight of her.

Brittany made a stunning bride. Her smile was incandescent, extending not from just her face, but from her chest and her shoulders and curling around her bouquet. Her pregnant belly looked so natural in her Grecian dress; the skirt tucked in just below her breasts, sending the fabric in a graceful cascade toward her feet. Threaded through her hair and under the bust of her dress was just a hint of pale pink ribbon. Santana felt something hook through her heart, tugging her toward the vision before her.

As Brittany took her first step forward, Santana's feet moved too. They walked toward each other from opposite sides of the room toward the platform in the middle, eyes meeting in between surreptitious glances toward the ground to ensure their footing was stable. The music was too slow for Santana; it took a painfully long time to reach the platform. She knew everyone was watching, but couldn't bring herself to look at anyone but Brittany. As they finally stepped onto the platform, Santana desperately took Brittany's hand. She realized she hadn't been breathing and let out a long, relieved breath. In the corner of her eye she saw Elinor slide out of her chair to take Santana's bouquet. Hayley must have taken Brittany's too, because as soon as Santana handed her bouquet to Elinor, Brittany took Santana's other hand in hers.

As the officiate welcomed the guests in words Santana heard only from a distance, Santana squeezed Brittany's hands, feeling anchored by her grasp. Brittany's lips moved to mouth the word _hi_ as she beamed at Santana, giddy with joy. Santana breathed the word back, feeling its tenderness in her chest. Brittany's lips moved again, this time to mouth _your dad!_ and tilt her head ever so slightly towards the chairs beside them. The ache in Santana's chest doubled, glad that Brittany could share her joy. Santana nodded, feeling her face wrinkle as she tried not to cry. Brittany nodded as if to say_, you are loved, Santana._ Santana felt a lump rising in her throat and looked up at the officiate for a fleeting second. Seeing the solemn expression on the face of the relative stranger, she decided to stick to her original plan of looking solely at Brittany.

Before Santana knew it, Brittany was speaking her vows. Santana's heart melted when she recognized one of the few poems she knew by heart, by Pablo Neruda. She felt tears brimming and batted her eyelashes to keep them from spilling as the familiar words washed over her, infinitely more beautiful when spoken by the woman she loved.

Brittany's voice was as steady and genuine as it had always been, giving life to the words that made Santana ache: "I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep, your eyes close." The poem ended and Brittany continued with her own words, turning the poem seamlessly into her vows. "Everything I am and everything I have is yours, from this moment forth unto eternity."

Santana squeezed Brittany's hands and took a moment to breathe and stand up straighter, collecting herself so she could say her vows back. She prayed her voice wouldn't fail her as she spoke directly to Brittany the words she had rehearsed a hundred times:

"From the moment I met you, you have surprised me, captivated me, and challenged me in ways that no one else ever has. I've fallen in love with you again and again, countless times, without reservation. I promise to be true to you, to uplift and support you, to frustrate and challenge you, and to share with you the most beautiful moments of my life. For the rest of my life."

Santana took a breath, hearing her own words as if for the first time. They had already shared so many beautiful moments together, the possibility of having another fifty years or more seemed incomprehensible; too much to hope for. But Brittany stood before her, handclasp solid and reassuring, offering that lifetime of beauty. In Brittany's steadfast smile Santana found strength to continue:

"No matter what trials we encounter or how much time passes, I know that our love will never fade. We will always find strength in one another, and we will continue to grow side by side. I believe in the truth of what we are, and I will love you always, with every beat of my heart."

Brittany gave her a subtle nod as her smile spread wide and she mouthed the words, _me too_.

_Do you, Brittany, take Santana to be your wife, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, through good times and bad, for as long as you both shall live?_

Brittany's smile calmed as she grew solemn, staring deeply into Santana's eyes.

"I do," she murmured, her voice never more steady or certain.

_And do you, Santana, take Brittany to be your wife, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, through good times and bad, for as long as you both shall live?_

"I do," Santana choked.

Santana felt relief spread through her torso and she saw a smile light up Brittany's face again. They were only moments away.

Elinor slid out of her seat again and handed Brittany's wedding band to Santana. _Repeat after me_, the officiate instructed. Santana nodded, eyes still fixed on Brittany. _With this ring, I thee wed._

"With this ring, I thee wed."

Santana felt her heart beat proud and untamed as she slid the ring onto Brittany's finger, feeling it nudge against the ruby engagement ring that already rested there. She squeezed Brittany's hand with her own and Brittany bit her lip over her grin, squeezing back. Hayley handed a matching wedding band to Brittany as Brittany repeated the words to Santana.

"With this ring, I _thee_ wed."

Everything in the room besides Brittany faded away, save for the voice of the officiate echoing from far away, _By the power vested in me by the state of Ohio, I now pronounce you lawfully wed. Congratulations. You may kiss the bride_.

Santana felt herself lean forward to connect with Brittany, her longing finally quenched as she placed a hand on Brittany's belly and kissed her. In Brittany's kiss she was met with reassurance, comfort, and all the joy she felt inside. She trembled as Brittany's hand cupped her cheek for the timeless, soaring moment they stood there. After a moment the applause rushed back into her ears as they pulled away, finally solid, finally grounded, finally married.

* * *

><p>Gordon stood and raised his glass, tapping it with his fork to get everyone's attention. The room quickly fell into a hush.<p>

"I'd like to propose a toast!" he boomed, silencing the last mutterings in the room. His speech had almost completely recovered since his stroke several years before. "It's a Pierce family tradition that the father of the bride gives the first speech," he began, "but since we've got a two-for-one special on beautiful women in white, what do you say, Antonio, you wanna flip for it?"

The guests laughed and Antonio batted his hand through the air with a smile, encouraging Gordon to continue.

Gordon turned toward Brittany and Santana, his larger-than-life energy calming as he smiled at Brittany. "To my oldest daughter and her wonderful wife: we have all been waiting for this day for many years." He gestured around the room and Santana saw a few heads bob in agreement. "My loving wife Vickie has told me once or twice that I tend to go on a bit too long when I give free-form speeches, so I decided to come prepared with a pre-written speech so your guests don't fall asleep in their food."

A few chuckles rang throughout the room as Gordon unfolded a piece of paper and put on his reading glasses, squinting at the words on the page.

"This is from _The Art of Marriage_," he explained. He donned a more formal tone, his words ringing solid and slow throughout the room, like an old-time radio announcer.

"In marriage, little things are the big things. It is never being too old to hold hands. It is remembering to say 'I love you' at least once a day. It is never going to sleep angry. It is not letting the courtship end with the honeymoon. It is standing together facing the world. It is forming a circle of love that gathers in the whole family."

Santana slid her hand onto Brittany's belly and watched as Brittany and Gordon grinned at each other. Brittany's hand slid to cover Santana's as Gordon continued:

"It is doing things for each other, not in the attitude of duty or sacrifice, but in the spirit of joy. It is not expecting one person to wear a halo or the other to have wings of an angel. It is cultivating flexibility, patience, understanding and a sense of humor. It is a common search for the good and the beautiful. It is not only marrying the right partner, it is _being_ the right partner." He folded the paper, looking at Brittany and Santana again with an earnest smile. "I know you have found the right partner, and I wish both of you - my daughters - a lifetime of happiness."

The guests clapped and nodded, making comments to each other and smiling. Just as Gordon sat down and Santana thought everyone would continue eating, Antonio stood up, raising his glass. Her heart skipped a beat.

"I, uh, would like to say a few words too," Antonio said in his shy, gruff voice. "I don't have quite the way with words that Gordon has, but I want to share the words my own father said to me on my wedding day, by the same poet Santana's lovely wife quoted earlier: Pablo Neruda. It's very short," he said, glancing around with a nervous smile. Santana's heart felt impossibly tight in her chest as he held his glass toward her and said, "Para que nada nos separe que nada nos una." He nodded at her and then turned to look at the guests around them. "Nothing separates us that does not also unite us," he translated. He turned back to meet Santana's eyes for a moment. "If you can remember that, you will be able to face even the worst of times. And Brittany," he added, raising his glass towards her, "my daughter is a very lucky woman. May you both be as happy as you are today for the rest of your lives."

Brittany bowed her head in thanks and the guests clapped as Antonio set down his drink. Santana swallowed the lump in her throat as she rose from her seat, walking to meet her father between the tables. She still couldn't quite believe he was there as she squeezed him to her chest and whispered through her tears, "I love you, daddy."

Antonio squeezed her back, patting her back before they returned to their chairs. Brittany took Santana's hand under the table and squeezed it, taking some of the tightness out of Santana's chest. Although they were surrounded by people and hadn't had a moment to themselves in a few days, every touch and look they shared said to Santana _you are loved_.

A few more people made speeches: a sweet, gushing toast from Vickie, a short poem from Hayley, and an embarrassing and lengthy comedic routine from Kelsey and Sasha, followed by a simple and heartfelt toast from Elinor. By the end of the meal, Santana was full to bursting with happiness and love.

A warm melody on an acoustic guitar began to float out over tables. Santana froze after the first few notes. It was John Mayer's _Daughters_. But before she could panic - they had decided _not_ to do a father-daughter dance, given that they weren't expecting Antonio to show up - she felt a warm, firm hand on her shoulder. She looked behind her and her heart clenched at the sight of her father holding out his hand to her. "Dance with me, nena," he said.

Santana nodded, as if in a trance, taking his hand as he led her to the dance floor as Gordon came to collect Brittany for her dance. She closed her eyes for a moment as her father's hand rested on her waist, the other clasped in her own.

"Did I tell you how pretty you look, Santana?" Antonio said softly as they danced.

"Yeah," Santana said, looking away with a smile as her ears grew hot. "You said I looked just like mom."

"You do," Antonio nodded. "In fact..." He reached into his pocket and took out his phone. Santana thought he was going to show her a picture of his wedding, but instead he pulled up a picture he had taken of Santana holding Brittany's hands at the altar. "I'm planning to show her what she missed."

Santana looked at her father in disbelief.

"This one's my favorite," Antonio said, holding the phone closer to her as they rocked back and forth.

Santana looked at the picture; she looked so calm and certain as she stood transfixed by Brittany's gaze before the stoic officiate. Her heart ached both at the memory of that moment and at the thought of Dolores looking at the picture. She hoped with every part of her being that maybe - _maybe_ - her mother would one day come around. But she knew it was unlikely after all these years. She gave her father an unsteady smile and nodded. "Mine too."

They danced for a little while until Santana felt Antonio stiffen, the song too long for him to be comfortable with all the attention of the room as they rocked back and forth. As if reading her mind, Antonio asked, "Should I go dance with your wife for a minute?"

Santana beamed and nodded.

Antonio kissed Santana's cheek, a quick, awkward peck that tugged at Santana's heart. He pulled away and tapped Gordon on the shoulder. Santana watched Brittany's face as it broke into an even wider smile when she saw Antonio's outstretched hand. As Gordon took Santana's hand, Santana locked eyes with Brittany across the dance floor, watching her smile over Antonio's shoulder.

After a minute Gordon and Antonio traded again, finishing out the song with their daughters. When it ended, Antonio gave her a funny little bow, smiling as he said, "Go dance with your wife, nena."

Santana kissed him on the cheek as he pulled her hand toward Brittany, who was handed off by Gordon with a dramatic flourish. Relieved to finally be dancing together, Brittany wrapped Santana as close to her as she could with her belly between them, resting their foreheads together as the next song started to play.

Their first dance felt like the first time they had been alone in days. Of course their family and friends were watching, but the music was loud enough that they could actually whisper a few words to each other without everyone hearing. But Santana couldn't think of anything she needed to say. So she just looked into Brittany's eyes as they swayed back and forth, ever connected. Brittany's eyes captured everything words could miss; the deep devotion, love, hope, and trust they had declared before their loved ones. Their gaze was wordless and profound. Perhaps that was the symbol of true unity: not having to say anything to be heard.

After a minute, Brittany whispered, "Remember our senior prom?"

"Mm hm," Santana hummed, smiling. She had thought about it more than a few times that day; the smell of the gardenias at each table brought back memories of their prom night without fail.

A few moments passed before Brittany said, "You wanted to be invisible on the dance floor that night."

Santana nodded and gave her a bashful smile, acutely aware that every eye in the room was on them. As she pulled Brittany closer and kissed her on the lips, she knew there was nowhere she would rather be than there, dancing in the arms of her wife, as all their family and friends looked on.


	74. To Make You Feel My Love

**Chapter 74: Make You Feel My Love**

Chapter soundtrack: "Make You Feel My Love" by Bob Dylan as performed by Adele.

A/N: So I told you there would be a lot more chapters at once as we got to the end, right? Here you go! The next chapter will be published on January 3rd, and the final chapter will be published on January 5th. Happy New Year! Thanks always to my betas, terriblemuriel and HangedLikeADog.

* * *

><p>As the town car pulled up in front of their house that evening, Santana felt herself relax: at last, they were home. In a few minutes she could take off her heels and comb out her hair and spend the rest of the evening alone with Brittany - her <em>wife<em>. The woman she was now tied to in every sense of the word.

Although Brittany seemed to have been so buoyant throughout the ceremony and reception, Santana was sure that she was feeling fatigued. Santana was tired herself, and she couldn't imagine having gone through the same ordeal at eight months pregnant. Brittany's face had spread into a relieved smile when Santana told her of their alternative honeymoon plans. Santana was glad their first night as a married couple would also be their first night in their new home.

The driver stopped and got out, opening the door for Santana and Brittany. Brittany had to rock back once to get out of the seat, and now Santana could see on her face that she _was_ tired.

When they got to the front door, Santana turned to Brittany with a playful smile.

"Should I carry you over the threshold?" she teased.

Brittany just laughed and unlocked the door, shaking her head.

Santana grinned as they set down their purses and took off their coats, watching Brittany's face when she realized their new home was already furnished and unpacked. Because of all the hard work Elinor, Kelsey, Sasha and Denton had put in the day before – was it really only the day before? – all their photos were on the walls and their books were on the shelves. Santana had been frantic the whole time and could still feel a bit of soreness in her shoulders and back, but when she saw the look on Brittany's face, she knew it had been worth it. Brittany's face reflected the same disbelief Santana had felt when Brittany told her Neil had left the house to them. It was still hard to believe that this was their house.

"Did you do this?" Brittany asked in amazement.

Santana gave her a smug smile and nodded. "I wanted to give you a wedding present," she explained. "But I may have had a little help."

"Wow..." Brittany exhaled, looking around. They had been in the house together several times, but now it was really _theirs_. A photo of them in the New Haven orchards rested on the fireplace, and Brittany's favorite poetry book was on the coffee table next to the scrapbook they were making for the baby.

"Kelsey and Sasha said they left us a surprise in the honeymoon suite. Let's go check it out," Santana said, gently pulling Brittany by the elbow towards the stairs.

They walked up the stairs hand in hand, looking at the walls around them. As they entered the master bedroom, Santana saw that it had been transformed from the empty room filled with boxes and half-assembled furniture that had been there the day before. Around the edges of the room were strands of white Christmas lights, with more strands draping towards the light fixture above the bed, illuminating the headboard and soft, white bedspread stacked with pillows. Several palm boughs had been placed in the corners, and the windows were covered with gauzy white curtains.

Santana exhaled, in awe of the sight and the kindness of her friends. It was simple, yet so magical. If not for their pictures on the walls and their respective trinkets on the bedside tables, it would have looked like a magazine or hotel. It was the perfect honeymoon suite: comfortable, intimate, exotic, yet with all the comforts of home.

Santana stepped over the threshold, but Brittany held back. Feeling the tug at her hand, Santana looked and saw Brittany was sniffling, her shoulders tense and shuddering.

"What's wrong?" Santana asked. The room was beautiful, but she was surprised it had made Brittany _cry_.

"My feet hurt," Brittany squeaked, wiping underneath her eyes with her knuckles.

"Well, come lie down," Santana urged, tugging Brittany's elbow towards the bed.

Brittany's feet remained planted in the doorway as she shook her head. "I don't want to mess it up," she whimpered.

"Mess what up?" Santana frowned, growing more concerned.

"It's so perfect and beautiful and I feel... I feel _fat_!" Brittany gasped, tears springing from her eyes.

"What?"

Santana was shocked. Brittany had _never_ called herself fat. She turned toward Brittany, bringing her hands up to hold Brittany's shoulders. She searched Brittany's face, perplexed, trying to figure out why Brittany was so upset. "Baby, you're not fat!" she soothed, rubbing her arm.

"I know, and I _hate_ when pregnant women say they're fat, because they're not fat, they're _pregnant_..." Brittany blubbered, trailing off.

"Brittany, you're _beautiful_," Santana hushed, cupping Brittany's cheek. "I want you to always feel beautiful…"

"But I just _don't_ right now!" Brittany cried, arms clutching herself across her stomach. "The room is so perfect and you went to all this trouble and you look so damn _pretty_ in your dress and I feel… I feel like I'm too much of everything," she stammered. "Too pregnant, too hormonal, too scared, too tired… and I have all these stretch marks that aren't gonna go away and my boobs hurt and… everything is just _wrong_! This isn't how our honeymoon is supposed to be!" she sobbed.

"Hey, hey!" Santana hushed. "Oh my god, _sweetheart_… come here." She wrapped Brittany close to her, her eyes wide in alarm as she pressed gently against Brittany's stomach and coaxed Brittany's head into the crook of her neck. "You are _so_ beautiful."

"You're just saying that so I'll stop crying," Brittany whimpered.

"No, I'm not," Santana stated. "I wouldn't lie to you, sweetheart."

Brittany sniffled and let herself be rocked gently back and forth for a few moments.

"Besides, I don't want to teach Baby Honeydew to lie either," Santana murmured into Brittany's ear.

"Can we not talk about the baby?" Brittany whined, pulling away a little bit. "I love our baby, but right now I'm really _mad_ at it. It was hiccuping through the whole reception and as funny as that sounds, it's really _annoying_. The baby is taking over my body and I never get a break. I just want to feel like _me_ for a minute," she whimpered.

Santana looked Brittany deep in the eyes and nodded, contemplating. "I think I would be mad if someone hijacked my body for nine months, too."

Brittany sniffled and wiped her cheek, looking away and nodding.

"How can I help you feel like just you?" Santana pressed.

"Just… just keep holding me," Brittany mumbled, returning to Santana's embrace.

"Okay," Santana hummed. "I can do that as long as you need."

Santana wrapped her arms tighter around Brittany's shoulders, holding her close but not pressing too hard into her belly. She held her there for a moment, breathing in the quiet and relishing the opportunity to comfort Brittany.

"You're so small I feel like I'm gonna crush you," Brittany mumbled into Santana's shoulder.

"You're not gonna crush me," Santana smiled. "If it were up to me, you'd let me _carry_ you over this threshold," she said with soft bravado. They stood there for a long time, illuminated in the soft, pearly light.

Brittany seemed to sway a little on her feet, so Santana said, "Come sit down. You've been on your feet all day."

She took Brittany by the hand and led her into the bedroom, closing the door and sealing them into their honeymoon suite. Santana placed Brittany on the end of the bed and knelt. She lifted the hem of Brittany's dress and took off her shoes, giving each foot a quick rub.

"Do you want some water?" Santana asked.

"You don't have to wait on me," Brittany mumbled.

"I know," Santana murmured. "Do you want some water?" she repeated.

Brittany nodded, chin tucked down, slightly embarrassed that she had gotten so worked up.

Santana stood and walked into the master bathroom, which was beautifully furnished with a claw-foot tub and a double sink. Taking a glass of water back to the bedroom, Santana saw Brittany had scooted up the bed and was lounging against the mountain of pillows, looking relieved to be off her feet and resting her back. Santana handed Brittany her water and gathered her own dress up around her hips so she could climb onto the bed. She settled down next to Brittany with one arm behind her head, lying so that their shoulders and hips were touching. Santana sighed in contentment as they looked up at the gleaming lights above them.

Brittany took a few big sips of her water and set it down. She curled into Santana, pressing her forehead into Santana's neck and wrapping her arm around Santana's waist. It wasn't a gesture of intimacy as much as a request for comfort. Santana ran her hand up and down Brittany's shoulder, soothing her.

"Can I kiss my wife?" Santana asked with a smile.

Brittany nodded against Santana's neck. She pulled her head back and Santana pressed into her lips, kissing Brittany firmly. Brittany kissed her back, parting her lips just a bit, pulling Santana's lower lip between them. She slipped her tongue into Santana's mouth for a second. "Mmf, sorry," she mumbled, pulling away and wiping her mouth with her hand.

"For what?" Santana asked, turning onto her side and pulling Brittany closer.

"Kissing you like that. Like we were gonna have _sex_ or something," Brittany said with a sad giggle. She sounded ashamed.

Santana was dumbstruck by the suggestion that they _wouldn't_ have sex on their wedding night, but she hid her reaction for the sake of Brittany's feelings.

"Well… that's kind of what I was _hoping_," Santana said, tucking hair behind Brittany's ear. "It is our honeymoon... and you look so beautiful." Her eyes trailed over Brittany's cheekbones, through her hair, over her neck and collarbone.

"S," Brittany said, rolling her eyes with a sad, doubtful expression.

"I love the way you look, Britt. You know that," Santana murmured, leaning forward to kiss the tender spot on Brittany's neck. "You turn me on." She slid her hand around to the side of Brittany's bump, holding it as she trailed more kisses up Brittany's neck, finally coming to lick and suck on Brittany's earlobe. Brittany exhaled, her shoulders drooping and her head tilting back just an inch.

"Let me make you feel beautiful, Britt," Santana whispered in her ear. "Every inch of you."

"There's a lot of inches to cover," Brittany mumbled, trying to sound glum, but sounding aroused instead.

"Well then we better get started," Santana hummed against the dip of her neck.

Santana heard Brittany exhale, not in resignation, but in relief. She took that as permission and reached behind Brittany to unzip her dress. Once she did, she let her hand roam the soft, warm skin of Brittany's back, pressing Brittany's chest into her own as she kept kissing Brittany's neck. Brittany's body was soft and malleable, melting into Santana in gratitude.

Santana peeled one strap of Brittany's dress down her shoulder, following her hand with her mouth as she placed kisses along the skin. She kissed along the strap of Brittany's maternity bra to where it met the swell of her breast, where she let her lips linger for a moment. Brittany's hand pressed Santana to her, urging her to continue.

Realizing it was going to be tricky to get out of their dresses while they lay on their sides, Santana sat up, and with a reassuring smile, slid off the bed and walked around to Brittany's side, where she gestured for Brittany to sit up. Sighing in frustration, Brittany slid her legs off the bed and propped herself up on her arms, which required some effort. Santana offered her hand, helping Brittany to her feet so Santana could lift the dress – all dozen yards of white fabric – off of her and drape it over a chair.

Brittany stood in her underwear and maternity bra for just a moment before slumping down onto the bed again. She really was hugely pregnant; Santana couldn't recall the last time she had seen someone with such a full, rounded belly, and briefly wondered if they were sure there was only _one_ baby inside.

Seeing the way Brittany tucked her chin down in embarrassment at being undressed, Santana knelt and lifted her chin, bringing their lips together. "No pouting on our honeymoon, B," she said with a warm smile. "You'll make me think you regret your decision," she winked.

"I'm happy we're married," Brittany mumbled. "I'm just not happy about being pregnant today. I'm so tired of it."

Santana nodded in sympathy. She imagined it was exhausting.

"I wish I could have fun, playful sex with you like we used to," Brittany continued, pouting again. "That's what people are supposed to do on their honeymoon."

"Says who?" Santana asked, trying to keep the mood light.

Brittany shrugged, her shoulders seemingly weighed down by her stomach.

"I say that any kind of sex is perfect for a honeymoon," Santana said as she reached to unzip her own dress. "Including slow, gentle sex."

Brittany looked up at Santana with a sheepish smile before giving a little nod. She reached up and slid one of the straps of Santana's dress off her shoulder. Santana pulled the other side down, shimmying out of the gown, revealing lacy white lingerie.

"That's really sexy, S," Brittany mumbled, running her hand over the fabric of Santana's white lace bra. "I've never seen you wear white."

"Well it's kind of the rule on your wedding day," Santana shrugged.

"You like mine?" Brittany said with a half-hearted smirk, looking down at the everyday maternity bra and plain panties she wore as she lay back on the pillows.

"I _love_ yours," Santana grinned, climbing onto the bed and leaning over Brittany. "But I love what's underneath even more."

Santana cupped Brittany's face and leaned in, kissing Brittany in a way she hadn't been able to in front of their friends and family. She swiped her tongue over Brittany's lower lip before sucking it between her own as she reached behind Brittany to undo her bra. It was more complicated; maternity bras had more hooks and a thicker band. But Santana had mastered it after several months, taking only a moment longer to undo the clasp, slipping it off Brittany and gently placing a kiss on each breast. Brittany ran her hands over the lace of Santana's bra again before reaching to undo it. When they were topless, Santana gently pressed against Brittany, being careful not to put to much pressure on Brittany's swollen and tender breasts.

Santana ran her hand down Brittany's side, feeling how the swell created a plane where Brittany's waist had been before. She drew a spiral with her fingertips before sliding her hand over Brittany's hip and under her panties, grasping Brittany's ass and squeezing. Brittany smiled against Santana's lips, shifting a bit so she pressed her stomach closer to Santana. Santana slid the side of Brittany's panties down as far as she could, smoothing her hand over the curve of Brittany's behind.

Sitting up, Santana gestured for Brittany to lie on her back and raise her hips just long enough for Santana to remove her panties. Brittany complied, settling back down on her back and parting her legs, turning her head back to where Santana's face lay next to her on the pillow.

"I want you," Brittany whispered, her words desperate.

Santana kissed Brittany even more passionately than before at the words, leaning over her. She wasted no time in sliding her hand between Brittany's legs, feeling just how _much_ Brittany wanted their connection. She was hot and tender and slick as Santana ran her fingers through her folds a few times.

"Does that feel good?" Santana asked.

"Mmff… yes," Brittany sighed. "But my back hurts when I lie flat like this."

"Okay. Want to try your side?" Santana offered, stilling her hand.

Brittany nodded and scooted onto her side. Santana lay in front of her, cupping her face in her hands. "Your body is beautiful and you turn me on." She enunciated each word so Brittany would know she was serious.

Brittany gave her a timid nod and leaned forward to kiss her again.

Santana ran her hand over Brittany's stomach, caressing it for a moment before sliding her hand between Brittany's legs again. Brittany shivered and exhaled at the lightest touch, her body alive with desire and more sensitive since the pregnancy. Santana began to pick up the pace, kissing along Brittany's collarbone and breasts. Brittany moaned and guided Santana's hand deeper, so that two fingers slid into her slick, hot center. Brittany shuddered and Santana began to move her fingers in and out. But the angle was tricky and Santana couldn't move her arm much with Brittany's stomach in the way.

"Feel good?" Santana asked, running her fingertips over Brittany's clit.

"Yeah," Brittany sighed. "But it's a weird angle for you, huh?"

"Yeah, let's try something different."

"What, _scissoring_?" Brittany said with a snort. "Because I don't need to attempt that to know it's not gonna work with the basketball in the way."

"You don't need to make jokes, baby. I love your body. Here, you just lie there," Santana suggested, kissing Brittany before sitting up. "Let me do all the work."

Santana took two pillows and stacked them right in front of Brittany's hips as Brittany lay on her side. Scooting away, she bent Brittany's top leg and placed her knee on the pillows. She straightened Brittany's lower leg, leaving her in a supported jackknife position. It was how Brittany usually slept now, because it took the pressure off her back and steadied her against the mattress.

"Comfy?" Santana asked.

Brittany nodded and Santana got off the bed, walking around to the other side. She lay behind Brittany, spooning her. She wiggled her lower arm under Brittany's neck, wrapping it around to cradle her chest. She knew she shouldn't fondle Brittany's breasts beyond gentle cupping – they had been too sensitive throughout her pregnancy to play with during foreplay like she used to - but she held one gently in her hand, running circles around the nipple with her index finger. She ran her other hand over Brittany's side, drawing swirls on her hip with her fingertips, caressing the soft skin of her thigh. She took extra care to run her hand over Brittany's stomach, yet her motions were distinctly different than they had usually been recently; this wasn't the way she rubbed vitamin E on Brittany's stomach, or the way she cradled Brittany's bump when she talked to the baby in Spanish. This was the same way she had always touched Brittany's stomach when she was trying to let Brittany know she was in the mood. Of course it was different now than it had been in previous years; Brittany's stomach was big and rounded and there was so much more of it to cover. But the pressure from Santana's palm and the way she let her fingertips drag over it after she lifted her wrist was familiar. Santana felt Brittany shiver a little. She drew her hand over Brittany's hip, squeezing her ass gently a few times before slipping her hand between Brittany's legs from behind. She found Brittany wet and quivering at the first touch. She ran her fingers through Brittany's heat, eliciting a moan from her.

"You feel so good, Britt," Santana whispered, pressing her lips up to Brittany's ear and very gently tightening her hold on Brittany's breast. "We should make love like this every day." She worked her fingers up Brittany's folds to her clit, spreading her wetness over it as she began to make circles. Brittany gasped and tilted back into Santana a little bit.

Santana liked to take her time when Brittany was soft like this. The noises Brittany made were more desperate than usual, almost helpless. Every moan was relieved and pleading, every sigh was one of abandon. Of course Brittany had been vulnerable over their years together, and always beautifully so, but tonight Santana felt more trusted and loving than ever as she rocked into Brittany from behind, drawing her out with her hand.

It took Santana by surprise when Brittany's body seized up and arched back into her after only a few minutes. Brittany's head craned back and Santana kissed the straining tendon on her neck. Brittany's breath was ragged as Santana hummed encouragement into her skin. Santana loved knowing that, despite whatever Brittany was feeling about her body, she could still provide some pleasure, some connection, and some comfort.

When Brittany dissolved into her post-orgasmic haze, Santana held her close, breathing with her and inhaling the smell of her skin and her hair.

"How did you know what I needed before I did?" Brittany asked, letting out a happy sigh.

"Mm... I would hope I knew a few things about you after ten years," Santana hummed, kissing behind Brittany's ear.

Brittany sighed, smiling into her pillow as she caught her breath.

After a moment Brittany shifted, first onto her back and then onto her side, sighing again as she faced Santana. She was glowing now, all her previous sadness washed away.

"Did that make you feel like just you?" Santana asked with a hopeful smile.

Brittany nodded, beaming. She took Santana's face between her hands and kissed her, softly at first, but with growing enthusiasm. After a moment, Brittany broke away, pushing herself up off the mattress and sliding her feet off the bed to meet the floor.

"Where are you going?" Santana asked, frowning as Brittany went to kneel at the base of the bed.

"I'm not going to deprive you of your favorite thing on our wedding night just because I'm pregnant," Brittany said with a playful smile. "Scoot down," she beckoned, patting the mattress.

Realizing what Brittany was suggesting, Santana gave Brittany a dazzling smile. Her pulse quickened as she slid to the end of the bed so her legs hung off. She drew in a ragged breath as Brittany slid off her panties, parted her legs and hooked them over her shoulders. Brittany's grin grew wicked as she kissed up the inside of Santana's thigh. Santana was already quivering with excitement. She _loved_ when Brittany went down on her. Brittany was right; it was her favorite.

Santana felt Brittany's breath, hot on her sex and inner thighs as she placed a few kisses right along the crease where Santana's leg met her hip. Santana squirmed, impatient for Brittany's touch.

And then Brittany's mouth latched on to Santana. It wasn't just kiss or a swipe of the tongue; Brittany used the full softness of her lips to embrace as much of Santana's sex as she could, exploring it with her tongue and lips all at once. It was as if Brittany wanted to completely submerge herself in Santana; her smell, her taste, her warmth, and her wetness. As Santana gasped, Brittany hummed, delighting in the way Santana reacted to her touch. The hum vibrated straight up Santana's spine, making her break out in goosebumps over her chest and arms. As Brittany's tongue dipped inside her, she tilted her head back and moaned.

By the time Brittany slid two fingers inside Santana, Santana was already panting and pressing Brittany's head into her, while her other hand clutched at her breast, squeezing and pulling at the nipple. She gave herself over completely to Brittany, as she had so many times before. There was an added rapture this time; the gasps of pleasure from Santana's lips echoed the gasps of joy she felt knowing she was married to the woman she loved most in the world.

As Brittany's fingers tilted up into Santana and she wrapped her lips around Santana's clit and sucked, Santana stiffened and let out a sharp cry. Brittany drew her out, pulling more release through Santana's body with her lips, prolonging the ecstasy. Santana has never been so glad to let go.

As Santana came down from her orgasm with loud, gasping breaths, a smile spread across her face. _Everything_ felt good. Brittany kissed her inner thighs a few times before sliding her fingers out of Santana and standing.

"God, Britt," Santana gasped, still catching her breath as Brittany settled back on the bed beside her, "I swear you get better at that every time."

Brittany grinned, nuzzling into Santana's neck. They lay there as Santana's breathing steadied, letting the quiet of the room and the soft glow of the lights bathe them. As warmth swept through her body, Santana wanted to give Brittany that same too-full feeling she had felt all day, the realization of how loved she was. Santana recalled several years before when Brittany had comforted her in a moment of vulnerability and had given her the same too-full feeling all on her own. But Brittany hadn't used her body, she had used her words: 'feelings sex,' she called it. Santana felt that this night, of all nights, Brittany deserved feelings sex. But she couldn't just take Brittany's template and change the words. She had to make it original.

"Hey you know what I never got to do?" Santana asked, gazing at Brittany across the pillow.

"Hm?"

"I never got to propose to you," Santana hummed, lightly scratching the crook of Brittany's elbow. "You beat me to it."

"But we're already married," Brittany giggled, her eyes twinkling like the lights above them.

"So?" Santana said, shrugging against the pillow. "You still deserve a proposal."

Brittany grinned and turned her face into the pillow.

"Brittany Susan _Lopez_-Pierce," Santana began, smiling at the new surname, "you are such an amazing person and I love you _so_ much. One of the things I love most about you is that you treat everyone you meet as someone worthy of your love and respect. It's what drew me to you all those years ago. You made me feel worthy."

Santana paused, searching for the words as she took Brittany's hand and held it to her chest.

"You are _so_ loving. By simply recognizing yourself and everyone else as beautiful, imperfect people, you give them one of your greatest gifts. Your respect and acceptance of everyone is just... gorgeous. I know everyone who knows you feels the same; your patients, your friends, your family... _our_ family." She grinned, placing her hand on Brittany's stomach.

Her expression returned to solemn as she looked Brittany in the eye and continued. "I hope someday everyone is able to see the world like you do - that _I'll_ learn to see the world like you do - because then everyone would have a chance to just _be_ and not worry about being perfect or different or unlovable. I know it's unlikely. But until that day, and every day after, I want to be with you."

Brittany's eyes glistened with happy tears as Santana continued.

"I want to be with you in every possible way. I want to be with you as a lover, as a friend, as your wife, as mothers, as... people. Because _every_ day you remind me that we're all just trying our best, and that's beautiful and enough. There is no one in the world I would be prouder to call my equal, my inspiration, or my wife."

Brittany sniffled, her smile growing watery as tears spills down her cheeks.

"Brittany," Santana murmured, cupping Brittany's cheek and wiping away a tear with her thumb, "will you marry me?"

Brittany nodded and wrapped her arms impossibly tight around Santana. She sniffled as Santana placed a tender kiss on her neck. With a shaky, overwhelmed sigh, Brittany whispered into Santana's ear:

"A thousand times."


	75. Butterflies and Hurricanes

**Chapter 75: Butterflies and Hurricanes**

Soundtrack is a rendition of Muse's _Butterflies and Hurricanes_ performed by the University of Virginia Sil'hooettes. Download from my Tumblr page or FF account.

A/N: So here we are, guys... the second to last chapter! I'm so excited to post this one. As always, thank you to my fearless betas: terriblemuriel, Mia, Sapphic Charmer, and Emmas409, with a special shoutout to PrairieJane for her "research" assistance on this chapter. It really does take a village.

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><p><strong>March 2022<strong>

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><p>"I keep wondering when the grownups are going to come home," Brittany said with a laugh as Santana entered the living room with a plate of olives, crackers and cheese. Brittany was lying on the couch looking at a catalog, no doubt excited for the day she wouldn't have to wear maternity clothes. "But then I remember we're the grownups and this is our house and that's our baby's room. And then I feel really weird."<p>

Santana giggled back at her and sat down, putting together a cracker-and-cheese mini sandwich.

"You know what I want to do this weekend?" Brittany said, resting the catalog on her lap and popping an olive into her mouth. "I want to go to Lima. My sister is home on Spring Break and I want to see her."

The thought of journeying so far from home when Brittany was so close to her due date made Santana incredibly anxious.

"Britt, I really don't think that's a good idea..." Santana began. "I mean, you're due any _day_ now. Don't you want to stay close to home?"

Brittany shrugged and said, "If I go into labor, we'd have plenty of time to get back. It's only two hours away and the way you drive, it's an hour and a half. Most of the time labor lasts hours and hours."

Santana dipped her head in admission, still not thrilled with the idea.

"Please, S," Brittany pouted, "I want to see my sister before the baby comes. Her boyfriend just dumped her and I want to cheer her up."

"Couldn't you just call her or Skype her or something?" Santana argued.

"S," Brittany frowned, "she's _sad_. I want to take her out and get her some new shoes or makeup or something. I want to be a good sister," she said with an exaggerated pout.

Santana knew Brittany was using her pout to get her way, and it was hard to say no to that request. Even if Hayley had hurt Santana's feelings at Thanksgiving, Santana remembered what it felt like to have a broken heart. She couldn't deny Hayley the comfort she knew Brittany would provide.

"Well..." she drawled, "I _guess_ we could make a day trip. But we're taking a copy of our birth plan and the hospital bag with us. And we're leaving before it gets dark."

Brittany grinned. "We don't need a copy of the birth plan," she giggled. "You have it memorized front to back."

"No I don't," Santana argued, eyes wide at the suggestion. She began running through the main points of their plan as her heart rate picked up.

"What's our early labor plan?" Brittany challenged with a smile.

"Sit in a warm bath together and do that guided imagery stuff we learned about."

"When do we go to the hospital?"

"When the contractions are one minute long, spaced four minutes apart, and have been that way for an hour."

"And what's our pain management plan?" Brittany continued.

"No epidural, no drugs," Santana cringed. "Just guided imagery and Lamaze breathing." She couldn't fathom _why_ Brittany wanted to do natural childbirth. They had had more than a few delicate discussions about it. Brittany insisted that she wanted to feel fully in control of the birth experience, that women gave birth without drugs for thousands of years and she could do it too.

"Who will be in the room?"

"Just you and me and your mom, if she can get there in time," Santana recited.

"And after the delivery?"

"They'll clear the airway, wipe the baby off quickly, wrap it in a blanket and hand it to me for the first few minutes. Then you get to hold it for a minute while I cut the cord and _then_ they'll give it a bath to clean off all the blood."

"And mucus," Brittany added.

"Yum," Santana said, making a gagging face.

Brittany giggled. "See? You know the plan from back to front."

"But I need to have it there!" Santana gasped.

"S," Brittany soothed, beckoning Santana closer to her on the couch. "It's okay. No matter where we are when I go into labor, I know you'll be a rock star."

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><p>They drove to Lima that weekend, Brittany humming along with the radio as they journeyed north, hand on her belly and a smile on her lips. Brittany seemed calm and happy, but the farther from home they got, the more nervous Santana grew. When they reached the Pierces', Santana busied herself helping Vickie make lunch. While Brittany and Hayley went shopping - briefly - as part of Hayley's "break-over makeover" plan, Santana helped Gordon with a few legal documents before she heard Vickie starting the dishes. Tying her long hair in a knot at the nape of her neck, she told Vickie she'd finish the dishes, which Vickie was all too happy to allow as she scurried out to finish crocheting a baby blanket.<p>

Santana was never fond of cleaning, but dishes were relaxing. She exhaled as she dipped her hands in the warm, soapy water. Brittany once told her she looked meditative as she ran the sponge along the curve of each plate, scooped suds through each glass, and lay each dish on the towel with utmost care. As she did the dishes, Santana imagined washing baby bottles and tiny rubber-coated spoons in their sink. She smiled, feeling the warmth from the water spread through her arms and up to her chest.

As Santana was almost finished with the last dish, she heard the front door open and close. Brittany appeared in the doorway of the kitchen with one hand on her belly and the other on her back.

"Santana?" Brittany said.

"Hm?" Santana looked up from the sink, shaking herself from her daydream.

Brittany kept her voice soft and even. "I just had a contraction at the mall. And another in the car."

Santana's smile vanished. "Now?" she paled. "The baby's coming _now_?"

"Probably not in the next five minutes," Brittany said, her voice calm. "But I'm definitely having contractions."

Santana swallowed, feeling a chill run through her. She couldn't panic, not visibly. She needed to be calm and supportive to help Brittany through labor.

Even though they had prepared for this for months, even with _years_ of preparation, Santana felt like she couldn't possibly be ready. She tried to remember what her jobs were - hand holding, timing, encouragement, breath coaching, and _not panicking_. As she told herself not to get nervous, she felt her body quicken, wishing she had read a few more books on labor coaching or taken better notes during childbirth class. But it was too late now. Brittany had one hand on her back and one on her belly and the baby was on its way.

"Did your water break?" Santana asked, noting that Brittany's outfit was still the same.

"No, that doesn't always happen right away."

"Right..." Santana murmured, frozen in place.

Just then Brittany's brow furrowed and her hand tensed against her belly. She pursed her lips and frowned at the floor. After a split second, Santana realized Brittany was having a contraction and flew across the room.

"Breathe, baby, breathe!" she panted, hands held up towards Brittany, unsure if she should touch her in her effort to help. She watched Brittany with wide eyes as she took several deep, quiet breaths.

"It's okay," Brittany said after about fifteen seconds. "It's not that bad right now. Just a little tightening and then it goes away."

"Okay," Santana gulped. She closed her eyes and tried to remember the details of their birth plan. "Let's get back to Columbus. I'll rub your back between contractions for a while and when it starts to pick up, we'll soak in our bathtub until the contractions are four minutes apart. Just like we planned."

"Yeah. I'll tell my parents to get ready and they'll follow us."

Santana started for the door, already walking through what she needed to do so they could leave as soon as possible. But as she brushed past Brittany, Brittany caught her wrist.

"S," Brittany grinned, her voice hushed and full of awe, "our _baby's_ coming!"

Santana looked at Brittany's face and saw it was bright and giddy. For a moment she let herself revel in that excitement, pulling Brittany into her and imagining a tiny warm body pressed to her chest. But all too soon she was jerked back into the reality that there was an enormous hurdle to clear before getting there.

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><p>Santana gripped the steering wheel of her SUV so hard her knuckles were white. Rain was spattering the windshield in increasingly bigger drops. She leaned on the horn, cursing herself for agreeing to go visit Hayley today. Traffic leading onto the freeway was at a complete standstill as Brittany took deep breaths in the passenger seat. Santana felt like she herself was panting and sweating, at least on the inside. She turned the air conditioning up as high as it would go, even though it was only March, freezing cold, and raining. She took a deep breath, remembering her job.<p>

"Breathe, baby, breathe," Santana chanted, willing herself to calm.

Brittany gave her a curious frown. "I'm not having a contraction right now," she said, a little amused. She turned her eyes back to the road. "Is there any other way to get there?" she asked, a little concern ringing in her voice. "There's got to be a way around this accident."

Wracking her brain, Santana realized there _was_ another way onto the highway. If she took the scenic route over the hill, past the outlook and around the reservoir, that road would take them around the perimeter of the city. There surely wouldn't be any traffic on that road and it would eventually put them on highway thirty three.

"Yeah, there is. It's a little longer though. Is that okay?" she asked.

"Sometimes the longer way is better. I just want to get home," Brittany smiled.

Santana turned the steering wheel sharply, made an illegal U-turn, and sped down the road in the opposite direction. She took Brittany's hand firmly in hers and squeezed.

"Hold on, baby. We'll get home in plenty of time. Just breathe with me. Squeeze my hand when it hurts."

"Okay. Drive quickly," Brittany said as she took Santana's hand.

But as they sped towards the road around the reservoir, Santana found it was closed off.

"Shit!" Santana muttered. "Why the hell is _this_ road closed?"

Brittany's legs were restless as she frowned and said, "I don't know. Maybe they haven't plowed it in a while."

"Let me find out what the fuck is going on," Santana said, her panic mounting. She turned the radio on to the traffic channel, and within a few minutes, she heard a scratchy voice say _highway 33 South has been closed until further notice due to weather conditions._

"Weather conditions?" Santana balked. "It's March!"

"Well, the roads _are_ really icy," Brittany said, her frown setting lines into her forehead. "Do you think the rain is freezing?" she asked, tilting her head to look out the window.

Santana huffed, leaning forward to look at the sky, hoping the clouds would soon pass. But the clouds were thick and as the sun sank lower somewhere behind them, they appeared dark and foreboding. Her stomach tensed as she turned back to Brittany, trying to stay calm.

"Okay, don't worry, we'll figure out a way to get home," Santana said, determined.

"How?" Brittany frowned. "Can our new car _fly_?"

"No..." Santana said.

"Let's just go back to my parents' house," Brittany said. "I don't want to be in the car if we're not moving."

Santana swallowed. This was _exactly_ what she was afraid would happen. Already their birth plan had been tossed out the window. But because she couldn't control anything else and because Brittany seemed so certain, she turned the car back toward the Pierces', praying the roads would be opened soon.

For the next two hours, Brittany wanted to putter around the house. It was odd and a bit unnerving to Santana. Here they were, knowing their baby was coming soon, but having to wait hours until anything remotely exciting - well, terrifying - happened. Brittany even helped her mom make dinner, pausing to bend over and breathe every fifteen minutes or so when a contraction would hit. When it did, Santana slid to her side, putting a hand on her back and making airy, rushing noises to coax Brittany to breathe through it. Each time she saw Brittany close her eyes, her heart sped up and her breath grew shaky. She busied herself timing the contractions, jotting down the duration and frequency on a pad of paper. But her writing was shaky and uneven, and even looking at the paper made her nervous. She seemed to be in odd juxtaposition with Brittany; Brittany just took quiet, deep breaths and closed her eyes, seeming to drift away for a moment while Santana's body surged.

After dinner, Brittany lay on her side on the guest room bed, wanting to sleep while she could. Again, Santana was alarmed at how calm she seemed. Aside from tensing with each contraction, Brittany was so peaceful that Santana thought she actually did doze off. Santana, of course, was wide awake, ready to go, as if she might need to spring into action at any moment. When a contraction came, Brittany made a tiny groaning noise and Santana smoothed the heel of her hand over Brittany's lower back, trying to knead away the pain.

At nine o'clock, the roads were still closed due to the weather. Gordon paced back and forth in the living room watching the weather channel and reported back to Brittany and Santana with each update. When at half past nine the reporters announced that the roads would be closed overnight, Santana got up from lying with Brittany and went downstairs to the guest bathroom, where Brittany couldn't hear her. In her moment of panic, Santana called the one person she trusted to give her the best medical advice.

"Daddy, it's me," Santana exhaled into the phone. "Thank god you picked up. Britt's in labor and we're stuck in Lima because they closed the road and I don't know what to do!"

Antonio's voice stayed calm and warm. "Take a slow, deep breath," he instructed. "Are you driving?"

"No," Santana panted, "we're at the Pierces'. What do I do?" she pressed.

"Just wait out the early labor there," Antonio said, his voice steady and smooth. "Then when it gets closer, take her to Lima General."

"But our obstetrician is in Columbus!" Santana protested. "We can't do this without Dr. Greene!"

"The doctors at Lima General are wonderful," Antonio assured. "Besides, it's mostly the nurses and midwives who do the work. The doctor just catches the baby at the end."

"But we have our whole birth plan!"

"You can still follow your birth plan. Just talk to the hospital staff when you get there."

Santana's tension lessened a bit, but she was still on edge. "I guess..."

"You can do it, Santana. Just stay calm for your wife and tell her over and over how great she's doing."

"Okay... I can try."

"You'll do great, nena. And you can call me if you have questions or if they give you any trouble at Lima General."

Santana swallowed. There was only one doctor she trusted as much as Dr. Greene, and she was talking to him.

"Okay. Thanks dad." She was about to hang up when she mustered up the nerve to ask for what she really wanted. "Daddy will you... will you come be there with me?" Her voice was small and hopeful. "I know you can't deliver the baby, but... I just want someone there for me."

Santana swore she could hear her father smiling through the phone. "Would that be okay with Brittany?"

"Well, only Vickie gets to be in the room with us during the labor and birth, but... it would mean a lot to me if you could be in the waiting room."

"I would _love_ to, Santana," Antonio said. "Call me and let me know when you get there."

"Okay. I will," Santana said, her words lurching with happiness and relief. "Bye, dad."

Santana hung up and pressed the phone to her chest with a relieved smile. Taking a deep breath, she went back upstairs, slowing as she entered the room and curled around Brittany. "My dad thinks we should just check in to Lima General when it's time," she whispered.

To Santana's surprise, Brittany kept her eyes closed and just nodded.

Around ten o'clock that night, Brittany's water still hadn't broken, but the labor had progressed so that Brittany wanted to get into the tub to help ease her pain. The warm water would relax her lower back and the floating would take pressure off the rest of her body. Once the tub was filled and Santana added a few drops of lavender oil, she slid in opposite Brittany in the Pierces' bathtub, knees pulled up to her chest as she sat between Brittany's legs. The lights were off and Vickie had dug up a few candles that were placed on the sink and toilet seat, casting a golden glow over them as they soaked and breathed together. Between contractions, Santana felt something akin to peace; the bathtub had always been a special place for them, and it made sense they had decided to labor there together. Though sometimes their baths were sensual and frisky, usually they just floated together, suspended in quiet as the outside world was forgotten. Now, even though every seven minutes or so Brittany would tense and grimace as she clutched the sides of the tub, Santana felt at peace. She was aware that these were their last moments alone together before the great unknown began, and she didn't want her anxiety to rule the experience. She tried to channel Brittany's usual calm.

As the contractions increased in frequency and intensity, Brittany's facial expressions began to worry Santana. Her eyes crinkled closed and her brow wavered as she bit her lip. Santana didn't like seeing that kind of strain, knowing Brittany was probably downplaying it for her benefit. When a particularly hard contraction hit, Santana held her hand, blowing air through puckered lips and murmuring, "you can do it, sweetheart. Almost done with this one."

Every so often Vickie or Gordon or Hayley would knock on the door, asking how they were doing and if they needed anything. Aside from bringing Brittany a few cups of juice and a washcloth, leaving them outside the door for Santana to retrieve, Gordon and Hayley were flustered and unsure what to do. Santana understood. Right now it was a cruel, tedious waiting game. As the night wore on and the contractions still weren't close enough to go to the hospital, Vickie and Gordon went to bed, instructing Santana to wake them up when it was time.

When Brittany sank back down into the tub after a particularly difficult contraction, Santana saw she was starting to sweat, and not from the warm water.

"Want some ice to chew on?" she offered.

Brittany closed her eyes and nodded, exhaling.

"Okay. I'll be right back," Santana said, standing and letting the water cascade off her body before stepping out of the tub. She patted herself dry, wrapped a fluffy white towel around herself and tiptoed out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

She padded into the kitchen, shivering a bit as the midnight air of the house met the dampness of her skin. As she opened the freezer to take out a tray of ice cubes, she saw Hayley hovering in the doorway, looking a bit frightened and sheepish. Normally Santana would have felt awkward wearing just a towel around Hayley, but she was focused on the ice and getting back into the bathroom with Brittany.

"Is my sister going to be okay?" Hayley asked, her voice small and timid.

"Yeah," Santana said, trying to project the confidence she wished she had as she twisted the ice tray and dumped the cubes out into a bowl.

"I was with her for the first contraction..." Hayley said, a worried frown on her face as she lowered her gaze on the floor. "I didn't know what to do."

"You did fine, Hayley," Santana said, a bit impatient. "I'll take care of her now."

At least Santana _hoped_ she could take care of Brittany. She was doing her best, but aside from holding her hand and telling her to breathe, she felt completely helpless. She refilled the ice tray and stuck it back in the freezer, closing the door with a little more muscle than she intended.

As Santana breezed past Hayley with the bowl of ice, Hayley called hesitantly, "Hey, Santana?"

Santana turned back to Hayley. Standing in her fuzzy blue pajamas with her hair in a braid, Hayley looked much younger than twenty-one.

"I'm really sorry about what I said," Hayley mumbled. "About the dad mattering. That was stupid."

Santana pursed her lips and bobbed her head, acknowledging what Hayley had said but not quite willing to forgive her yet.

"And for what it's worth... I'm really glad my sister chose _you_ to have a baby with. I think you'll be a really good mom."

Santana softened a bit, but was distracted when her towel started to slip down. "Thanks Hayley," she said, tugging at her towel as she gave Hayley a tense smile. She appreciated the gesture, but Hayley's timing wasn't exactly great. She was too focused on helping Brittany to spend time on Hayley's overdue apology, even if she did appreciate the sentiment.

"Will you let me know if there's any way I can help?" Hayley pleaded. "Now, or after the baby comes?"

Santana let her smile soften, nodding in earnest this time. "Of course," she said. "You can go to bed. We'll wake you up when it's time."

For the next few hours, Brittany alternated between laboring in bed on her side and in the tub. Santana was positively pruny, but she didn't care, as Brittany seemed to do better in the tub. By three in the morning, the contractions had become more intense. As Santana held the stopwatch in a death grip over the side of the tub, Brittany gasped and panted through each one, cringing and locking her limbs as she bent forward. Santana tried to hold on to the calmness that Brittany had oozed earlier that night, but as Brittany coiled in pain, so did Santana's nerves.

When at last the contractions were a minute long and spaced four minutes apart, Santana helped Brittany bundle up and climb in the car. After alerting Brittany's parents and calling her dad, she double-checked that their hospital bag was in the trunk and they sped off, Vickie and Gordon promising they'd be just ten minutes behind.

The streets were deserted now, and the wet, icy pavement glistened in the light of the streetlamps and shop signs. Between contractions, the only sound they heard was the faint hum of the car motor and the wipers flicking moisture from the windshield. It was almost eerie. Santana wondered when they would be in such a quiet, peaceful state again.

They were admitted into the hospital right away. Brittany was placed in a wheelchair and, holding her stomach, pushed towards the labor and delivery wing, while Santana trotted behind her with their bag and a copy of their birth plan. She began rambling off their preferences:

"She wants to have the lights dimmed between contractions," Santana instructed the man wheeling the chair, "and she wants to be allowed to eat if she's hungry. We don't want any residents or interns in the room, just the obstetrician and the nurses and me and her mother. And please-"

The man cut her off. "I'm just taking you to your room," he said with a weary smile. "You can tell the midwife all your preferences."

Santana swallowed. "Okay," she said. She would have been embarrassed any other time, but now found herself too nervous to care.

* * *

><p>When they first measured Brittany's dilation and strapped the monitors to her, she was at five centimeters. But three hours later, Brittany's water still hadn't broken and she was still at five centimeters. Santana grew worried when the nurse said she was going to consult the doctor.<p>

Santana turned to Brittany, eyes wide, preparing to ask if that meant there was something wrong. But then she realized that would be the worst thing she could do. She didn't want to get Brittany worked up. So instead she gave Brittany's hand a squeeze and said she needed some water. She went out to the waiting room and found Vickie, sitting with a cup of coffee and a smile on her face between an agitated Gordon and Hayley, who was texting furiously. Sitting next to Gordon, with his glasses perched on his nose and crossword puzzle in his lap, was Antonio. Beckoning her father around the corner, she told him what was happening, desperately hoping he could reassure her in layman's terms that Brittany was fine. She didn't trust the nurses to be honest with her or to explain things in non-medical lingo.

"She's completely fine," Antonio assured. "Not everyone's water breaks on it's own."

Santana exhaled in relief, shoulders slumping down a bit.

"They'll just break it for her and then her labor should start moving along."

Just then Vickie sidled up to Antonio, asking what was happening.

Santana explained.

"Oh, that's nothing to worry about, darling girl!" Vickie assured. "They had to break my water for me both times. Easy as pie! Then the labor really gets going. It did with me," she said, patting Santana on the shoulder. "You just go back in there and be with your wife and let me know if she wants me there."

Santana nodded, glancing back at her father who gave her a subtle nod and a smile. She turned back to the room, desperate to be with Brittany, but dreading the fear the room held for her.

Sure enough, upon consultation the doctor advised breaking Brittany's water, and a few minutes later, a man in blue scrubs entered with what looked like an enormous crochet hook. Santana paled at the thought of what he was about to do to her wife.

"Alright Ms. Lopez-Pierce, let's see if we can help move this labor along, shall we?" the man smiled.

Brittany tensed a bit but smiled and nodded, adjusting herself on the bed as the doctor pulled up a rolling stool.

"Is it going to hurt?" Brittany asked, her eyebrows lifting a little.

The man smiled and shook his head. "There will be some pressure, but mostly you'll just feel lots of fluid rushing out. Afterwards your contractions will start getting more frequent and intense."

Brittany nodded and widened the stance of her legs on the bed.

Sure enough, moments after the giant crochet hook disappeared under Brittany's hospital gown, Brittany inhaled and put her hand on her belly.

"Whoa," she said, her eyes widening. "You weren't kidding."

"Are you okay?" Santana demanded.

Brittany nodded and gave Santana a reassuring smile. "Yeah, it just feels like I peed everywhere. Weird!"

Santana exhaled and almost smiled at Brittany's comparison, relieved and hoping the labor would be over soon.

* * *

><p>Brittany bit her lips as she grimaced, groaning as a contraction barreled through her.<p>

"Breathe, baby, breathe," Santana chanted. "Big breaths like we practiced."

Santana started blowing loud, huffing breaths against Brittany's face, trying to cool her off and get her to breathe. She felt her own torso and gut seize up as she watched Brittany's face ripple in pain as she took a few gasping breaths through her grimace.

"I'm _breathing_!" Brittany seethed through her teeth. "That's about all I can do at the moment!"

Seeing Brittany snap so quickly shook Santana. She looked at Vickie who just nodded her encouragement, giving Santana the strength to continue.

When the contraction passed, Brittany tilted her head back against the bed, relieved and panting. Santana wiped the washcloth over her forehead, collecting the sweat and brushing back her hair.

"Britt, it's okay if you change your mind about the drugs," Santana said, almost pleading. "If it hurts too much, take them. You're still _so_ strong and you're doing _so_ great."

"No," Brittany panted. "I'm doing it this way."

"What about an epidural?" Santana pressed, hopeful Brittany would change her mind. It was absolute _torture_ to watch Brittany subject herself to pain when a little relief was so readily available.

"No," Brittany insisted. "I'm not going to be in labor forever," she sighed, seeming to melt into the hospital bed with exhaustion. "Just a little while longer."

"Britt, it just looks like it hurts so much..." Santana said, frowning.

"It hurts like a _bitch_," Brittany muttered. "But this was our plan." Her tone indicated she had dug her heels in and Santana knew better than to push her.

"Okay. Tell me what you need."

"I need those doctors and nurses to stop bursting in here without warning like they _own_ the place. It's really hard to do my visualization when I'm constantly interrupted."

Santana heard the voice of their childbirth instructor echo, _your job is to be an advocate for your partner. Whatever she asks, try to get it for her_.

Just then a nurse pushed through the door. "Miss Pierce, it's time to measure you again," she announced.

"Hey!" Santana barked. "Don't just barge in here like that when my wife is in labor! She's trying to stay calm, for fuck's sake! And check your file, her last name is _Lopez_-Pierce!"

The nurse shot Santana an unimpressed look. "First baby?" she asked.

"Yes," Santana said, the bite gone from her voice.

"Figured as much," the nurse said with a stiff nod. "So do you want me to check how far she's dilated or not?"

"I- I do..." Santana said, realizing she had snapped at the nurse unnecessarily. "Sorry. Um, could you ask the staff to come into the room a little more slowly and quietly so she - so _we_ don't get startled?"

"Of course," the nurse said with a softer smile. "I'll tell the other staff."

After she measured how far Brittany was dilated - eight centimeters - the nurse gave Santana a nod and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Brittany let out a shaky breath. "S, I'm so tired," she mumbled. "Can you turn down the lights so I can rest?"

"Of course, B," Santana hummed. "Can I get you anything else?"

"No. Just stay here with me."

Santana let go of Brittany's hand so she could turn the lights down.

While Brittany was exhausted and immediately tucked her head toward her shoulder in an attempt to sleep, Santana was as alert as could be. Her _body_ was exhausted, but she felt a sharp, wired buzzing in every organ and muscle. When she sat, her feet tapped uncontrollably, and when she was anywhere apart from Brittany's side, she paced and fidgeted with her jewelry.

* * *

><p>A few hours later, Brittany looked paler and more exhausted than Santana had ever seen her. Her hair was soaked with sweat and between contractions, she lay limp in the hospital bed. But seeing Brittany so depleted between contractions wasn't as bad as the contractions themselves, which Santana dreaded with every fiber of her being. Santana had <em>never <em>heard Brittany scream the way she screamed during the final stages of labor. It wasn't like a scary movie scream or a scream like someone had dropped a jar on her foot. It was an earth-shattering, guttural, terrifying roar that made Santana's stomach twist and her heart palpitate. She had never seen this side of Brittany: tortured, helpless, and in violent desperation.

"It's a good sign," Vickie whispered to Santana as she placed a hand on her back. "This means it's almost time."

Santana nodded, eyes wide. It was absolutely impossible to believe this was what was supposed to happen in order for their child to be born.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, Brittany's calmness from the night before was completely gone. As Santana encouraged her to breathe, Brittany started shooting her pained, angry glares.

When it came time for Brittany to push, Santana took her place right by Brittany's side. Taking deep breaths, she steeled herself, determined to be as courageous as Brittany was being. As Brittany had requested, the lights were dimmed and only two nurses, the doctor, Vickie and Santana were in the room. The doctors asked Santana if she wanted to hold one of Brittany's legs, and, glancing at Brittany for approval, she gripped Brittany's knee, trying to channel strength into her while Brittany gripped her other hand like a lifeline. At times Brittany looked up at her in utter fear. That fear was alarming and terrifying to Santana, and the only thing she could do was chant phrases she thought might help. But even the calming phrases she spoke to Brittany didn't quiet her own fear. Her legs felt stiff and her shoulders felt locked up to her ears as her stomach clenched and her head spun.

But through her fear, she still found words for Brittany. It was the only thing she could do to help and she'd be damned if she didn't try as hard as she could. "Good, good," she murmured. "Keep pushing, B. You're doing _great_."

Just like they had been taught, the pushing took longer than it ever did in the movies. It took Brittany a good twenty minutes of pushing before the doctor cheered, "There we go, the baby's crowning! Keep going, Brittany!"

Brittany let out a shaky, groaning gasp and took a deep breath, doubling her grip on Santana's hand.

"Push again with the next contraction and count to ten," the doctor instructed.

When she saw Brittany clench with the next contraction, Santana joined the doctor and Vickie as they chanted, watching Brittany's face turn bright pink as she strained back and pushed.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, _ten_!"

Brittany let out the breath she was holding and collapsed back against the bed.

"Almost there, Britt-Bee!" Vickie said, "I can see the head!"

"You're doing _so_ great, Brittany," Santana whispered, her voice catching in her throat as she was overcome with helplessness and admiration for her wife. "Just a little bit longer, sweetheart. Keep going!"

Brittany took a few deep breaths, eyes closed as she waited for the next contraction. Santana wiped the hair away from Brittany's forehead, her chest tightening at the frailty and exhaustion she could do nothing about. When she felt the first hint of Brittany's grip on her hand tighten and heard Brittany groan, Santana chanted, "C'mon, Britt, you can do it! Just a few more pushes!"

Brittany rallied, keeping her eyes closed as she hunched forward and pushed, her last shred of determination set in her brow.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, _ten_!"

This time Brittany leaned slightly more forward and Santana heard a slippery, liquid sound. She was tempted to look, but remained rooted by Brittany's side, too afraid that the blood would make her queasy.

"There's the head! Okay, one more big push, Brittany, and the shoulders will be through," the doctor said. Brittany pushed again, with her last ounce of strength, gasping as she collapsed backwards. The nurses' arms moved quickly as a squelch sounded and tiny sputters were followed by a shrill wail.

As Brittany let out a relieved, exhausted sob, Santana took one step toward the bottom of the bed, trembling as she saw her baby for the first time. She barely had time to register the quivering, gasping infant coated in blood and mucus before she heard the words, _it's a boy!_

Santana lifted her hand to her face, shaking as she watched them wipe off her child and wrap him in his receiving blanket. She was deaf and blind to everything else. Nothing had ever appeared _so_miraculous. The impossibly small, wailing child captivated her, ensnaring her heart and stilling her breath. Her chest contracted and she shuddered in disbelief.

And as the nurse lifted him up to place him in Santana's arms, Santana felt her heart crack open, unable to hold the overwhelming awe and love she had for her child. Tears burned in her eyes, and as she looked down at the flailing, wrinkled infant as he took his first breaths, she was wracked with sobs. After watching him struggle for a moment, she looked up at Brittany in disbelief. Holding the tiny, warm body to hers, she couldn't believe she was trusted with something so precious. After nine months of only dreaming, their baby was finally here. He was the most wondrous thing Santana had ever seen.

"Brittany," Santana choked, barely able to make out the outline of her wife through her tears, "he's _perfect_."


	76. The Book of Love

**Chapter 76: The Book of Love**

Chapter title and soundtrack song: "The Book of Love" by Peter Gabriel

A/N: And thus, my dear readers, we have come to our final chapter. If you haven't done so, please take a moment to thank my betas, the beautiful and courageous terriblemuriel, Mia, Emma's 409 and Sapphic Charmer.

Several people have expressed interest in a bound version of this story. I will be putting one together in the next month and making the link available to purchase, should you wish. I will not be making any profit whatsoever. I just feel more comfortable knowing any "published" version is one I approved. Please give me a few weeks to make final edits. I'll post the link on my Tumblr.

* * *

><p>After hearing that first tiny, pinched cry, Santana held their newborn son in absolute awe. When she could see through her tears, she counted his fingers and toes, amazed at how small each digit was. Her own hands felt enormous and clumsy. He was so much <em>smaller<em> than she had imagined. When Brittany reached for him, Santana woke from her trance, realizing Brittany was aching to finally hold their son. She handed him to Brittany, whose relieved sobs turned to sniffles of joy as she held him to her chest, pressing her hand to his back and tilting her head into his. "There you are, there you are..." she whispered. Brittany's face was flushed and sweaty and her hair was matted. Nevertheless, Santana thought she looked perfect. She had never been prouder of Brittany, nor thought her more courageous.

Santana cut the cord despite her fear that it would hurt her wife or her son. After a few minutes, when Brittany had settled, the nurses took their son to be bathed. Judging by his furious cries, he did _not_ like the experience, and Santana's heart clenched hearing it. She almost darted across the room to yank him away from the nurses, but Brittany sensed her tensing and held her arm.

"It's okay," Brittany whispered. "They'll give him back in a minute."

When the baby was handed back in a warm blanket and tiny cotton cap, Brittany took him to her chest to nurse him. Santana held her breath, watching as his head wobbled for just a second before he latched on, snuffling as he sucked, his brow furrowed. Santana's eyes flitted between Brittany's face and the baby's, wondering what it felt like. Brittany peered down at him with a smile on her lips.

"Look at that..." she whispered, grinning as if he had done something extraordinary. "He just knows what to do..."

Santana let out a quiet chuckle. Of course he knew how to nurse; all babies knew how. Still, watching her own child was nothing short of extraordinary.

Brittany patted the bed next to her, gesturing for Santana to lay with her. Santana gave her an unsure look, but Brittany nodded with an encouraging smile. Santana carefully slid onto the bed next to Brittany, being ever so careful not to bump her hip.

"What should we name him, Mama Santana?" Brittany murmured.

Santana grinned at the word. _Mama_. "You choose, Mama Britt. You did all the work!" she remarked.

"That's not true," Brittany said. "I may have given birth, but we made our family _together_."

They rested their heads together and looked down at their son in wonder, hoping he would give them some inspiration.

"How about Caleb?" Brittany suggested.

"Caleb..." Santana said, testing how it felt in her mouth.

Brittany nodded, looking Santana in the eyes. "It means whole-hearted."

Santana thought about all the things she wanted for her baby, and what his name could mean, not just for him, but for their little family. From the moment Brittany had gotten pregnant, she had vowed to be the best parent she possibly could. So although she had spent hours secretly looking up names while Brittany slept, whispering names she liked at the computer monitor to see how they felt, she couldn't think of a better name for the child in Brittany's arms.

Santana smiled. "I love it," she said. "Whole-hearted."

"Well, if he's anything like his Mama Santana," Brittany said affectionately, "he'll live up to the meaning."

Santana's chest ached, reminding her all too well that she lived with her whole heart. She didn't know any other way of being. Knowing that Brittany embraced - no, _loved_ - that about her made her eyes sting with tears.

She gave Brittany a watery smile and turned her gaze to the tiny boy in her arms. "Is that your name, little one?" she cooed. "Is your name Caleb?"

The baby kept nursing, his eyes closed in concentration.

"He needs a middle name," Brittany murmured. "Something strong."

Santana was hesitant to suggest the name she had been thinking about in the back of her mind. It seemed selfish, given that Brittany had chosen an original name for their baby. But the name meant strength, at least to Santana.

"Antonio?" Santana suggested, her voice timid, looking at Brittany to gauge her reaction.

Brittany's eyes darted up to Santana as a smile spread across her lips. "That's beautiful," she said. "Caleb Antonio."

Santana was relieved, smiling back at Brittany. "Is that okay?" she asked.

"I love it," Brittany said, her words soft but absolutely confident.

"Caleb Antonio Lopez-Pierce," Santana murmured, listening to the ring of the name as she spoke it.

Just then the infant in Brittany's arms jerked, pulling away from Brittany's breast and opening his eyes for a moment, revealing deep brown eyes with a hint of honey in them. He made a gurgling noise, moving his lips like a fish before rolling his head back to Brittany's breast and taking it in his mouth. Santana and Brittany watched in amazement, still incredulous at their creation.

"I think he said yes," Brittany whispered.

Santana and Brittany looked into each other's eyes.

"Caleb Antonio Lopez-Pierce," Brittany whispered.

They smiled at each other and turned their gaze back to the baby.

"Caleb Antonio Lopez-Pierce," Santana echoed. "That's your name, isn't it?"

Caleb's mouth puckered and he swallowed, as if taking in the name. In the quiet stillness of the room, the sound of his name felt warm and right.

When he had finished nursing, Vickie poked her head in, reminding them there were people anxiously waiting to meet the baby.

"Are you ready for visitors, Britt-bee?" Vickie whispered.

Brittany nodded.

When the Pierces entered the room, they did so with quiet footsteps, the low lighting instinctively telling them to whisper. They all had anxious smiles on their faces as they tiptoed towards the bed where Santana and Brittany sat.

"Hey, darling girl," Gordon hushed, sidling up to the side of the bed. "Who is this handsome guy?" he said, bending down to peer at the baby's face against Brittany's hospital gown.

"This is Caleb Antonio Lopez-Pierce," Brittany murmured, looking down at the sleeping baby in her arms, smiling with pride as her family crowded around her. She looked back up at her dad. "Want to hold him?"

"Of course," Gordon said, eyes wide in delight.

Santana watched as her son was passed delicately from arm to arm. Gordon swelled with pride, his grandson appearing even tinier and more delicate in his arms. Hayley looked almost frightened, yet incredibly happy as she held him, looking back and forth between Brittany and the baby. Vickie cried her usual happy, bursting tears as she held the child to her chest, whimpering, "Caleb... my first grandbaby..."

When Vickie said that, Santana couldn't help but think of Dolores. It was the only mar to the day, knowing her mother wouldn't cry or perhaps even want to hold her perfect little boy if she had been there. But thinking of Dolores reminded Santana that there was someone who _did_ want to meet him, who was proud of her and desperately wanted to hold her son. She ached, wondering for a moment why he wasn't there. But she realized he was probably out in the waiting room, waiting to be invited. He wanted to be respectful of Brittany. As soon as Vickie handed the baby back to Brittany, Santana asked her to tell Antonio it was okay to come in. The Pierces left with big smiles on their faces, relieved and overjoyed that both Brittany and the baby were healthy and safe.

A moment later Antonio peered inside, his face apprehensive. Santana smiled as she beckoned him over. He walked around to Santana's side of the bed, looking at the baby in Brittany's arms.

"Daddy," Santana murmured, putting a hand on his arm. She nodded towards the baby. "This is your grandson."

Antonio's face spread in a smile.

"Do you want to hold him?" Santana asked, still somewhat timid, lifting the baby from Brittany's arms towards her father.

Santana saw Antonio warm from head to toe as the baby was placed in his large, protective arms.

"Hey, little guy," Antonio said with a huge grin. "Hello there, handsome..."

Santana watched her father's eyes as they studied her son from head to toe, taking in the way his fists bunched and his brow wrinkled over his flat little face. Caleb puckered his face like he had tasted a lemon and Antonio chuckled.

"His name is Caleb," Santana offered.

Antonio smiled at the baby in his arms. "Hi Caleb," he cooed, rocking side to side on his feet.

"Caleb Antonio," Santana added.

Antonio stopped rocking, looking up at Brittany and Santana in surprise. Brittany and Santana looked back at him with sincere smiles.

"We wanted to give him a strong name," Brittany said.

Antonio dipped his head down, looking back at the baby, an unreadable expression on his face as he studied the infant in his arms.

"I remember the day you were born, Santana..." Antonio began.

There was a pause and Santana was shocked to see her father wipe his face; he had actually been moved to tears.

"Your mother and I, we were-"

He stopped abruptly, realizing he had brought up the one person who could wipe away Santana's smile. He cleared his throat, glancing up at Santana before looking back down at Caleb. He took a breath, steadying himself before looking back at Santana with confident eyes. "He's beautiful, Santana," he declared. "You should be very, very proud." He looked back down at the baby, his smile turning joyous again. "And - I'm _honored_ to share my name with my grandson."

* * *

><p>After all the visitors had left and the nurses had done all the measurements and tests they needed to do, Santana lay next to an utterly exhausted Brittany. Yet no matter how exhausted either of them were, their overflowing pride propped them up, keeping their eyes open for a few minutes longer, memorizing every eyelash, every wrinkle, every dark goose-down hair on their baby's tiny head. Although his face was smushed and he looked grumpy like all newborns, he was rosy and warm as he lay peacefully in Santana's arms.<p>

As he slept, his lips pursed and reopened, sometimes sighing or shuddering, as if the task of breathing were exhausting. Santana supposed it _was_ to him; he had only begun his lifelong rhythm of inhaling and exhaling a couple of hours before. His fingers, fascinatingly tiny, were held in tight fists which occasionally jerked up or out to the side in his blankets. Though his face was wrinkled and serious, sometimes he would raise his eyebrows, as if questioning everything around him in his sleep, and Santana wondered what he was dreaming about. She laid her head back onto the upright bed and tilted it onto Brittany's shoulder, never taking her eyes off the tiny person in her arms.

"He's a miracle, B," Santana murmured, her voice still wavering whenever she tried to talk. "And you were perfect. _So _brave. I could never have done that."

"Of course you could have," Brittany cooed. "You'd do anything for him."

Santana looked at his tiny, serious face and couldn't think of a single thing she wouldn't do for him. She would have endured all the pain she had seen on Brittany's face - and more - to meet her son. The thought shocked her; she never thought she'd entertain the idea of voluntarily subjecting herself to that much pain. But the child in her arms had changed everything. She didn't think it was possible to love someone so completely or so instantly. She was overwhelmed and felt tears stinging again, blurring her vision, making his outline fuzzier than the blankets wrapped around him. She didn't understand why she was crying; this was supposed to be one of the happiest moments of her life.

Brittany heard Santana sniffle and kissed the top of her head as they looked down at their baby boy. He was the embodiment of possibility; he was just starting his life, and was proof to Santana that she had done something with hers. She had never been prouder of anything.

After a few minutes, Santana began to drift into sleep. She was startled awake by Brittany's whisper.

"Do you know what today is?"

"Hmm?" Santana hummed, opening her eyes.

"Today is the eleven year anniversary of the first time you told me you loved me."

Santana's heart swelled at the thought. At the time she had been terrified and had never felt so hurt in her life. But it had marked the start of a most amazing journey. She remembered it vividly; even the color of the lockers and the chipped tiles beneath her feet, and the way Brittany had tried to hold on to her when she started to crack.

"It is?"

"Uh huh. March eighth, two thousand eleven," Brittany said with a grin.

Santana smiled. "I can't believe you remember the exact date."

"Of course I remember," Brittany cooed. "How could I forget?"

They rested their heads together on the pillow as they looked at Caleb. His tiny torso rose and fell with shallow little puffs of breath. Brittany's eyes fought to stay open as she whispered to him in his sleep, "We're so happy you're finally here, little one. We have been waiting for you for a long, long time... "

_Yes,_ Santana smiled as they drifted into sleep, _sometimes the longer way is better_.

* * *

><p>The End.<p>

* * *

><p>AN: When I began drafting this story in March, I was nursing a broken heart and used writing to cope. As I finish editing the final chapter, I am struck by the wonderful changes in my life since then; the people, opportunities, lessons and gifts the past year has brought me truly astounds me. Although this story was written about Brittany and Santana finding their joy, I assure you "Taking the Long Way" has really been about finding mine.

If this story has reached you in any way, please let me know in the form of a review or message. Connecting with others has been the most meaningful part of this experience. I have been so touched by the responses I've gotten, the personal messages, experiences and feelings you have taken the time to share with me. It has meant so much that you cared so deeply about this journey.

This story is dedicated to all the beautiful young Santanas in the world. To everyone still on the rough beginning of their journey, I hope my story has helped you believe that you deserve to have your wildest dreams come true. Because you absolutely do. Every last one of you.

Since you have been such a wonderful audience, and because I'm not ready to say goodbye, I have a surprise for you: if you look on my profile, you will see I have posted the first chapter of the**sequel:****Me and You and Daisies**. Enjoy the first chapter, and once I get back from a much needed "maternity leave," I hope you'll join me as Brittany and Santana continue their journey into motherhood!


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